


In the darkness of the night (we are the shadows)

by Reiya_Wakayama



Series: we are the shadows [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sheriff Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, badass sheriff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: After the Hale fire, life in Beacon Hills seems to die back down to normal: same small town crimes, nothing interesting. That is, until six months after the fire, when something comes stalking through the town. How will Stiles and his father cope with a sudden change in their lives and how will this affect future events to come?
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore
Series: we are the shadows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723528
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	In the darkness of the night (we are the shadows)

**Author's Note:**

> I started this almost a year ago and it sat on my computer, just gathering dust. Then this pandemic happened and I have a lot more time on my hands, so I decided to dust some of my WIP and crack down on them. This is the first one done. I'm loving this setting. I plan to continue with a second one to follow up but not sure when I'll do it and where it will lead. It will still follow canon with a twist of course but I hope to start soon. Enjoy!

The world is dark outside; the only light comes from a few street lights further down the road and a couple of wall lights on the warehouse behind the cruiser. It’s silent except for the sound of eating as Sheriff Mark Stilinski and his son Stiles munch on the food his father packed for them.

Normally, this wouldn’t be normal. Stiles would be at home or at the McCall residence, sleeping instead of sitting with his father in his police cruiser at 10 pm. But tomorrow is the first anniversary of the day their world shattered and he can’t bear to be away from his son tonight. Tomorrow, they plan to go to the cemetery, flowers already acquired. They’ll make a day of it. But tonight, he just needs him close.

Stiles, for the most part, doesn’t seem to mind. He’s quieter though, when normally he’d be talking his father’s ear off between bites. Tomorrow is on both of their minds it seems.

“How’s your food?” he asks quietly, breaking the silence finally.

“It’s good, though it’d probably be better warmed up,” Stiles admits with a small smile at his father.

“Yeah, probably,” he agrees, finishing his last bite. His radio blares for a second and he listens to whether it’s something he needs to be involved in or is closer to his location. When it turns out to be someone running a red light and closer to another deputy, he tunes it back out.

They both jump as something metal crashes behind them, loud in the quiet of the night. “Dad, what-,” Stiles starts to say.

“Shh, hang on,” Mark cuts him off, turning to look behind the car. It came from the ally between the two large buildings.

He grabs his radio and speaks into it, “Dispatch, I’ve got some strange noises going on down here at the old warehouse off of 31. I’m going to check it out, probably some kids or an animal. Stiles is staying in the car.” He says the last part with a look at his son and the boy pouts, but nods.

“Roger that, Sheriff. Keep us posted and Stiles, we have some cookies waiting for you when you guys get back,” Sasha Manfield’s voice says over the radio. She’s worked with his father for years. Hell, she helped raise Stiles.

Stiles grins at that and his father gives him an indulgent smile and rubs his head. “Will do, over and out,” he says and steps out of the car. With his keys in his pocket and with a motion for Stiles to lock the doors, he makes his way towards the building, flicking his flash light on.

As he nears the mouth of the alley, he calls out, “Whoever is out there, come on out. This is the Police.” There’s nothing and then another crash of something metal falling over.

Stepping further in, he shines his light further in, looking at the large metal trash bins that have been knocked over, the source of the noise. Shining it further back, he sees something large and dark tucked into the shadows.

“Come out of there,” he calls. He's not prepared for two glowing red eyes to turn his way, or the low rumble of a growl that follows.

“Shi-,” he gets out, reaching for his radio before the thing bounds out of the alley, slamming into him. He’s knocked back, the breath forced from his lungs before searing pain erupts on his shoulder, the thing's fangs sinking deep into his shoulder. He hears the static of his radio cut off as the cord connected to it is cut.

He fumbles for his gun, trying to pull it out and then he hears a door slam and running feet and before he can react, a voice calls out, “Leave my dad alone!” He looks back to see Stiles pick up a large rock and chuck it, the fury of the nine year old boy putting more force behind it than usual.

It smacks into the head of whatever has him penned and he yells in pain as its teeth pull out, large red eyes looking at his son. Mark’s blood runs cold as it starts to stalk towards Stiles, picking up speed. He reacts on instinct, finally pulling his gun out of the holster and firing before he even realizes he’s doing it, habit from his time in the military kicking in.

His aim is true, and the beast goes down with a bullet through its head, collapsing near on top of his son before sliding to a halt. “Stiles!” he yells out, scrambling up, ignoring the pain and blood from his shoulder as he rushes towards his son.

The beast is half on top of him, penning his legs. A small cut has opened up on his arm where a claw seems to have caught him as it fell. He pushes it off, dragging Stiles closer, “Are you okay?” he asks frantically, checking him over for anywhere else that might be hurt. It seems that one laceration is it though.

“Dad, you’re hurt,” Stiles gets out, eyes wide as he take in his father’s uniform that is slowly soaking with blood.

“It’s alright, I’ll be fine, Stiles, just-,” he tries to reassure before the sound of screeching tires reaches them and a car comes to a sudden stop next to the police cruiser, the dark sedan’s door opening.

A tall, dark skinned man comes barreling over and it takes Mark a second to figure out who it is. “Doc Deaton?”

“Are you two okay?” he asks hurriedly, looking between the two of them and the large corpse of what attacked them.

“I guess. Stiles only got a scratch. The thing, whatever it is, bit me pretty good. Might need some stitches,” Mark gets out, a small dizzy spell taking him and he sits down with a grimace as it jars his shoulder.

“It bit you?” Deaton asks, his eyes unusually intense for the situation.

“Yeah, on the shoulder. Whatever it is, it’s fast and strong. Probably would have killed me if Stiles hadn’t distracted it. And don’t think we’re not talking about this, young man,” Mark gets out, turning to his son who’s eyes are a bit wet. “Hey, I’m fine,” he assures, pulling his son under his good arm.

Deaton starts to pace, glancing between the three over and over before stopping in front of him. “Mark, I’m going to tell you some things and I need you to listen and know what I say is truth. Can you?” Deaton asks quickly.

“Alan, what is this about?” Mark asks, frowning at his near frenzy.

“Can you?” he asks again.

“Yes, I will listen to what you have to say,” Mark says with a nod, frowning still.

“That thing,” he points to the beast, “I’ve been tracking it all week. It’s not the first one I’ve seen, nor will it be the last. Mark, that is a werewolf. They are real and very hard to kill. That you managed to hit in one of its more vulnerable spots is more luck than anything else. Had you hit it anywhere else, and it would have probably gotten your son as well.”

Mark’s ears ring for a moment, just taking in his words. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. Werewolves?

“Mark, look at it now,” Deaton prompts and he does and back pedals, dragging Stiles with him as the beast slowly shrinks, seeming to become half its size, fur receding, limbs morphing before all that is left is a human man with a hole in his head.

“Are you telling me that that is a werewolf?” Mark asks finally, head spinning.

“Yes and unfortunately, it was an alpha. He bit you and I’m sorry Mark, but you will turn or die from it. There is no other option,” Deaton says, looking pained as he says it.

“Dad?” Stiles asks, looking scared for his father.

“I need more information, Alan. You can’t just drop this on me and expect me to take it at face value, despite how convincing… _that_ , was,” he says motioning towards the man.

“Very well, what would you like to know? I can give you basic information now and tell you more later,” Deaton offers.

“You were tracking that, why?” he asks.

“It was a rogue wolf, probably not in its right mind. If it had decided to stay, I had planned to persuade it to leave, using whatever it took,” Deaton says with a shrug.

“So what, you hunt these?” he asks.

“I am not, nor will I ever be a werewolf hunter. I refuse to be associated with those cutthroats. I watch over this town and try to protect those I can. I’m usually successful but not always,” he says and gestures around himself.

“You say I will become one of them, a werewolf. Why?” he asks.

“It is a little more complicated to explain, but the basics, is that there is a hierarchy when it comes to werewolf packs. Betas make up the bulk of a pack and they are led by one or a pair of Alphas. An alpha has the ability to turn a human into a werewolf, though usually, there must be intent behind it. This one was seeking to take this territory now that the previous pack is either dead or gone,” Deaton explains. “He was starting to look for people to turn to make his betas.”

“The previous pack? You mean there were more of them in this town?” Mark asks, feeling like he’s trying to swim against the tide and failing badly.

“Yes, the Hales,” he says and Mark thinks back on that night, the whole family trapped in a burning house, bodies burnt. Only three made it out. He remembers bringing the two teens to the station while their uncle was taken to the hospital for his burns.

“How sure are you that I am going to turn?” Mark demands, needing to be sure.

“Mark, you’ve already stopped bleeding. I’d say an absolute,” Alan says and Mark looks down at his shoulder. It has and it looks like it is already clotting and at least a few days old. His heart sinks.

“What should I expect?” he questions, braced for the worst, pulling Stiles tighter to his side.

“Tomorrow night is the full moon. You will change and because you killed an alpha, the likelihood of you being one as well is high. I can keep you contained but if you are unable to find a way to control yourself and anchor yourself, I will be forced to act. I don’t want to Mark, but you could be a danger to not only your son, but to everyone in this town.” Deaton is somber as he explains what will happen.

Mark sucks in a sharp breath before letting it out in a gust. “Alright, alright, we can do this. Stiles, I need you to go to the car. In the trunk, there’s a shovel and my duffel with my spare uniform in it. Can you get them for me?” he asks.

Stiles nods and runs off to do as asked, keys clutched in his small hands. “Will my son turn?” he asks quickly, while the boy is out of ear shot.

“No, he was only scratched,” Deaton assures.

“Okay, I need to make a call to dispatch. They know I’m here and we need to hide any evidence before someone comes looking for us,” Mark says, standing up.

A quick talk on the radio about a rabid dog and him firing a shot to put it out of its misery is accepted without a hitch. He tells them he’s already called Alan Deaton, the local vet to come check the dog out and to take it back with him to make sure it didn’t have rabies and was just waiting for him to arrive. Unfortunately, his radio was a casualty of the thing attacking him so he’s going to have to toss it and get another one later.

Once the story is laid, it’s quick work to drag the body deeper into the woods near the warehouse and bury it. Thankfully, the ground is just packed earth between the buildings and doesn’t take much to cover the blood pool.

A quick change and he’s as ready as he’ll ever be. “Should I be worried about going to the station?” he asks Deaton, tossing the evidence bag of his bloodied clothing into the trunk to dispose of later.

“You should be fine for a bit. Just try not to linger,” Deaton advises calmly. “I will meet you at your home.” Mark nods and gets into the cruiser and pulls away.

It’s hard to act normal while he’s got a bandaged shoulder hidden under his shirt, but he pulls it off. He heads to his office, quickly filing the paperwork necessary for firing his gun and a report on what happened.

He feels bad for leaving early, but his deputies give him knowing looks, thinking this is about tomorrow and he wishes it was. They shoo him out of the station, handing a small container of cookies to Stiles and then they’re back in his cruiser. It shouldn’t have been this easy to lie, yet none of them even looked at Mark strange.

Deaton’s car is already in front of their house by the time Mark pulls up. He doesn’t get out though. He turns to Stiles, looking at his son. “Stiles, how are holding up?’ he asks softly.

“I…I don’t know, dad. It’s…I don’t want to lose you,” he says softly, sniffing wetly as tears start to form in his eyes.

“Oh, Stiles,” he gets through a tight throat, pulling his son closer. “I promise I will not leave you, no matter what happens. We’ll get through this and it will get better. Nothing will take me from you willingly,” he says fiercely, holding him tight.

Stiles nods against his chest, sniffing softly before pulling back with a wane smile. Deaton nods to them as they get out of the car and reach the front step. Mark unlocks the door and motions them in, taking a glance around before following and shutting and locking the door behind them.

Things get a little surreal after that. He and Deaton quickly take the stairs to the basement and begin pulling the boxes stored down there and moving them into the garage. It’s a little heartbreaking for him and Stiles as many of the boxes they only placed down there last year after Claudia passed. Still, they need a secure space and the basement is it.

The morning comes quickly and already Mark can feel…something. He’s not sure how to describe it. Almost like he’s waiting for something to happen he knows is coming: anticipation, excitement, anxiety, dread, a ball of feelings weighing him down like lead.

When Deaton comes back from his car with a large jar of a dark powder, he knows things are getting serious. The man quickly lines the basement walls, muttering under his breath, and that Mark can hear it from upstairs is not a good sign of his hope to stay human, though that has grown smaller with each hour. That he can’t even understand or even guess the language Deaton is speaking in is a bit weird though.

Stiles, for his part, has remained steadfast, doing what he’s told without complaint and with a determined expression. If will alone could fix this, Mark is sure Stiles could do it. He’s like his mother in that regard, fearlessness and determination helping them bulldoze through any problem. But Mark knows that some problems can’t be overcome or willed away. Claudia’s illness proved that quite clearly to the both of them.

When Deaton is done, it’s going on noon and they stop to eat, shoveling sandwiches into their mouths while each watches the clock, the ticking minutes. After that, the time of reckoning finally hits.

Mark silently follows Deaton down the stairs and into the now secured room. Stiles is ordered to remain upstairs, though his son pushes his limits by sitting on the top of the stairs. Alan quickly finishes the line of powder, newly named mountain ash to the two of them. It can contain even an Alpha werewolf, if prepared right and Deaton made sure to prepare it right.

Then comes the wait. Deaton explains as best he can what will happen. The loss of control, the struggle for the wolf to be free. How he needs to find his center, his anchor, what he will use to remember his human self, before Deaton will release him from this prison.

Mark listens but can’t really compute what is being said. It’s like a nightmare and he’s waiting to wake up. Except, he’s wide awake and he knows he needs to understand what Deaton is saying before it’s too late.

As the hours creep by, the tension builds, in the room and within himself. He senses…something, his whole body seeming to react to it. When Deaton realizes this, he explains it’s the moon’s pull and influence on him. That he’ll always feel this, though the strength will wax and wane with the moon’s phases: on a new moon, he won’t feel a thing; on a full moon, it will consume him.

His first sense of any change is a prickling, tingling sensation across his skin, like a numb limb waking up. It drives him to distraction, the feeling and he wants to scratch his skin off if it means the feeling will stop.

A loud rap of wood on stone, a stick against the basement wall, brings him back to the present. Deaton looks grim and Mark glances back down to see deep scratches in his arms from the new claws sprouting from his nailbeds. As he watches, they heal before his eyes; the only evidence of their existence is the blood.

After that, he begins to fight, to distract himself. It’s hard though. The pull tugs at something deep and each time his mind wanders for even a second, it grabs hold and tries to take control. Each time, the sharp sound of wood on stone brings him back.

Deaton’s sharp words ring out, “Find your anchor. You can’t fight the pull forever. Eventually you will lose control. You must find your anchor before it’s too late.”

Anger spikes in him. What does the man think he is doing, having a picnic? He’s trying, but his thoughts are mercurial, slipping through his fingers. The anger builds. How dare this man order him like a child? A deep rumbling growl escapes his throat, and the world around him bleeds red momentarily before the shock knocks him back a step.

“Find your anchor! If you don’t, I will kill you Mark. I will do what must be done to protect this town and the people that live here. What will happen to your son then? Will you leave him to a cruel world, to an unforgiving foster system? What will happen if you lose control and maim your own son? How could you forgive yourself if you hurt him? Do you think he would be able to forgive you?”

The words are unending and angering and frightening. His blood boils but fear worms through his mind. He tries to fight the beast controlling him, but he can’t. The words and imagery not enough.

And then there’s a cry, soft, too soft for Deaton to hear, but Mark does, his senses hyper attuned to the source, though he only just realizes it, as a pair of feet come running down the stairs, too quick for Deaton to react to and grab before Stiles throws himself across the barrier and wraps his arms around his waist.

Mark freezes in terror; Deaton’s face is white in shock and fear as well. Stiles doesn’t notice, too busy clinging to him and muttering, “No, I won’t let you take him. I know he won’t hurt me. You’re strong, dad. I know you can control this.”

It’s his eyes though, that strike through the fog in his mind. So trusting and full of love and hope for him, so like Claudia’s. His son, his last connection to Claudia. His pride and joy and everything that keeps him going, despite the gaping hole in his heart. He can do this, for him.

The fog slowly lifts, the world fading back to normal color and while he can still feel the unbearable pull of the moon, he now has the strength to fight it. He’s himself, despite the new changes wrought on his body.

Awkwardly, he hugs Stiles, keeping the claws tucked into his fists as he breathes deep and for the first time, really takes in the scent of his son. This is home, and family. He won’t let anyone take this from him. He looks past Stiles, towards the stairs and sees Deaton, watching them. The vet nods and steps further up the stairs, giving them some privacy.

The rest of the night goes by quickly, and soon the sun rises, the pull lessening. He has an anchor. He can control this. He will protect this town and his son with everything he has, new and old abilities both.

~*~

_5 years later_

Stiles presses against the wall, listening to the phone conversation happening in the other room. He’s not stupid, he knows his father can hear him, but he listens anyway. When the words “body” and “woods” come up, he perks up. It’s been awhile since their last interesting case, or his dad’s case. He’s not officially allowed to know what he knows, but well snooping works wonders.

He’s distracted and the rap of knuckles on his head takes him by surprise as he jumps and looks to see his father standing in the doorway of the now opened door. “We’ve been over this, Stiles,” he says with a tired and resigned sigh. He knows Stiles will do what he wants, within reason, why fight it?

“Is it-,” he starts to ask.

“None of your concern. You will stay here and work on your homework. I’ll be back later tonight,” Mark says with a hint of a rumble in his voice, patience thinning. He catches himself and takes a breath, calming himself. With the full moon so close, he needs to check himself sometimes. “Sorry.”

Stiles just grins. “It’s fine Dad. I’m a big boy. I can take a bit of growling,” he reassures his father. Even after five years of this, the man is still afraid of doing something that will scare his son.

Stiles trails him as the man gathers his uniform and gear, dressing quickly. “Any hints? Please!” he asks quickly while his father is busy buckling his belt on.

“Stiles,” he grumbles, exasperated with his game. Finished, he settles his jacket on his frame and looks to his son. Stiles grins and runs forward to wrap his arms around his father. Mark breathes deep, taking in the unique scents that make up Stiles and grounds himself on it, anchoring himself against the moon’s pull. Pulling back, he nods and starts to leave before he stops and turns, “Stay. Here. There will be consequences if you do something Stiles. I can’t shield you forever.”

“Go to work, dad,” Stiles says with a shooing motion. Mark rolls his eyes, already guessing how this night will end. His son has an unhealthy need to bend rules; especially those he thinks are unnecessary or stupid in his opinion.

The door closes and Stiles has the decency to wait until he hears his father’s cruiser pull away from the house before making a dash to his phone, already knowing just what to say to get Scott to come out with him. Over the years, this has become a bit of a game for him: see how long he can evade his Alpha werewolf father. Though, if he’s honest with himself, he never makes it more than an hour before his father notices him.

The man’s senses are a radar, though it helps him in his line of work. Too many times people have tried to sneak up on him looking to harm him and only his father’s enhanced hearing has saved him from being hurt. Though even then, most injuries would heal quickly.

But he dreads the day hunters will arrive. Deaton had warned them after that first night about them. They killed nearly all of the last pack that had lived in Beacon Hills, the Hale family. They need to be careful to not draw undue attention on their family.

~*~

Stiles gives a mental curse as he spies the bright lights of the deputies up ahead. He pulls Scott to a stop but it’s too late. They’ve already made too much noise.

As if on cue, a beam of light points unerringly in his direction, Scott blocked by a tree. He hears a tired, “Stiles” from the shadowy figure holding the flash light. “Shoot, they caught us,” he grumbles softly to Scott. Scott mimes silently hiding against the tree and he’s tempted to let his friend try.

But he knows it’s pointless. His dad can literally hear two heartbeats. He knows Scott is here, even if he can’t see him. “No use dude. He knows us and knows you’re here. Come on, let’s go before he drags us back,” Stiles says with a sigh, grabbing Scott’s arm and dragging his friend towards the group of officers.

He knows them all, was raised by half of them and the others he knows from frequent nights at the Sheriff’s Department, doing homework and such when he didn’t want to be away from his dad. “I told you there would be consequences, Stiles. Sasha, get them in the back of the car,” he grumbles.

Sasha Manfield, a close family friend from years of working with his dad, as his partner early on then as a subordinate when he became sheriff, grins and wags her eyebrows knowingly before putting on her serious face and grabs them by the back of their jackets, marching them towards the waiting vehicles. They slide into the back without much of a grumble as she shuts the door.

An hour goes by before the deputies and his father return. From the looks on their faces and the small bits of conversation he catches about only half a body, and that’s something to think about, they didn’t find what they were looking for.

His dad and Sasha climb into the patrol car, his father sending them a stern look before turning back forward and starting the car. “We’ll discuss this at the station and you can bet I’m calling Melissa, Scott.” Scott cringes a bit at that. His mom’s going to ground him for weeks, probably.

“But, Betsy,” Stiles starts.

“We’ll come back for your jeep later,” Mark says, as they pull back out onto the road. Stiles sighs and leans against the door dejectedly. Perhaps he should have listened this once, maybe.

The drive is silent, his father and Sasha talking quietly up front about work things and other cases. The station, when they walk in, is busy with the news of the body. His dad directs them by a firm grip on their necks to the chairs near his office and motions for them to sit before he heads in and shuts the door. Stiles can see him pull out his phone, which means he’s definitely calling Scott’s mom.

They sit there for a good hour before the main entrance opens and Melissa McCall comes barging in in her work scrubs; face resigned and annoyed by having to come down here. “Scott,” she says, standing in front of them, foot tapping.

“Hi, mom,” he says sheepishly.

“Hey, Mrs. McCall,” Stiles says with a small wave.

“You two have gone on long enough. Scott, you’re lucky the Sheriff isn’t pressing any charges. Trespassing on a crime scene is enough to get you arrested. You’re both almost an adult and you two need to start acting like one before you get into more trouble than you can get out of,” she hardly raises her voice, but the two are cowed before her.

She lets out a sigh, “I’ve thought about how best to punish you. So, for the next month, you are grounded and not allowed to see Stiles.” Stiles gives an annoyed squawk and she holds up a threatening finger. “That means no sitting together in class, no eating lunch together. No hanging out after school or coming over in the middle of the night and I will be putting restrictions on your phone and computer to keep contact to next to none. As well, I will be writing a letter to your teachers and you will have them each sign it so they know what is going on. There are consequences to your actions boys. Maybe you’ll use this time apart to reflect on this.”

“I’ll make sure he follows your punishment,” Mark says from the doorway where he’s leaning, watching the exchange.

“Thank you. Scott, let’s go. You get to spend the rest of the night with me at the hospital,” she says with a sigh, motioning to her son to follow.

“Sorry, dude,” Stiles mumbles miserably. Scott shrugs, waves good bye to him and his dad, before following his mom out of the police station.

“In here, Stiles,” Mark says with a jerk of his head for his son to follow him into his office. Stiles drags his feet before the door is shut firmly behind him and he sits in the chair across from his dad.

“That was Melissa’s punishment. Now mine. I will be making a list of chores and yard work that you’ll be doing as well. I thought about community service, but I would have had to make this official, so we’ll do home service instead. As well, you will only be allowed to use your jeep to go to and from school. Is that clear,” he asks?

“Yeah,” Stiles mutters miserably, not looking up.

Mark sighs, leaning back. “I don’t like doing this Stiles, but what you two did was dangerous. Someone killed that woman and could have still been out there. You intentionally put yourself in danger. What if I hadn’t been there? I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you’re at. Perhaps this lesson will stick better.”

Before Stiles can answer, there’s a knock at the door. Sasha’s standing there holding a file. She opens the door at his gesture to come in. “Fresh from the lab. They ran her DNA and found a match. Thought you’d like to know,” she says, holding the file out. Mark takes it and thanks her as she steps out with a subtle pat to Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles peeks up at his father as he opens the file and reads it before his face goes tight with shock. “What?” he asks quickly, momentarily forgetting his ire with his dad as he stands and comes towards the desk.

Mark, for once, lets the file fall and Stiles can see the face and name printed on the paper inside: “Laura Hale, age: 24.” “Wait, she’s,” Stiles stops, not wanting to finish his thought, but they both know what he’s going to say: a _werewolf._

And not just a beta, but an Alpha, inherited after Talia Hale’s death in the fire. Deaton had said she and Derek had moved to New York, leaving Peter Hale, their uncle, in a coma in the long term care ward at the hospital, his burns too much to heal, even for the werewolf.

That could only mean one thing. “Hunters,” Mark says quietly, eyes intense and fearful.

~*~

Stiles paces his room as he thinks. His computer is open to his research, every scrap of info he could collect on werewolves from the internet and what he could get Deaton to tell him. His mind is ping ponging around his skull as he tries to figure out this new problem while a small section of his brain raises the red alarm of fear at the idea of hunters.

His father, after learning that the body was a werewolf and that she’d probably been killed by a hunter, had quickly bundled Stiles up and had driven him back to his jeep and had followed him home. He had warned Stiles not to test his punishment and then had left to keep working the case.

That was hours ago and it’s going on early morning. He hadn’t been able to sleep, tossing and turning before he finally gave up and reread through all his research. He didn’t have much on hunters, aside from their more common means of killing: guns, knives, bows, crossbows and liberal uses of wolfsbane on everything they touched.

Deaton didn’t have much either. A few names of prominent families, some basic understanding of how they located werewolves, but that was it. He’d already sent a text to the vet, but the man hadn’t replied, probably still asleep.

He hears his dad’s car pull into the driveway and he heads downstairs. By the time he gets there, his dad’s inside and pulling his gun belt off and heading for gun safe in his office to store it. When he comes back out, Stiles just plows right into him, hugging tight, the building anxiety and tension of the night bleeding away some as his father grips him close.

“It’s going to be fine, Stiles,” he says but a rumble bleeds into his voice and Stiles doesn’t need to look to know his eyes are red. A subtle tension is in his frame, of a predator waiting for an attack.

He pulls back and sees the worry and fatigue in Stiles’ face and hugs him again. His dad calls him out of school for the day, seeing that it would be pointless, as Stiles wouldn’t be able to concentrate anyways. They spend the day eating, watching TV and his dad working occasionally in his office when he has to.

~*~

Late afternoon arrives with the sound of someone knocking on the door. Stiles rushes to answer it while his dad is in the office taking a phone call from the station. He’s a bit shocked to open it and see Deaton standing on the doorstep.

“Deaton, I texted you hours ago, what the hell,” Stiles accuses as he lets the vet into the house and closes the door.

“My apologies, Stiles. It seems my phone has been acting up and I only just got it a few hours ago. Once I closed up for the day, I came right here,” he explains, stepping into the living room just has his dad steps out, hanging up his cell. “Sheriff.”

“Thank you for coming Deaton,” Mark answers back, looking distracted.

“Did something else happen?” Stiles asks, concerned.

“No, nothing yet. We tried getting a hold of Derek Hale, Laura’s brother, but he didn’t answer and when the police in New York went to his apartment, he wasn’t there, his car gone as well,” Mark supplies.

“He must have felt Laura’s death. More than likely, he’s on his way here or has even arrived already,” Deaton supplies.

“My thought exactly. I’ve got my people on the lookout for him. He needs to be informed what happened,” Mark agrees, settling heavily on the couch. “What can you tell us Deaton? Hunters showing up like this can’t be good.”

“Unfortunately, your guess is as good as mine. Why they have come is strange. Has anything strange happened recently? Anything that might have drawn them here?” he asks.

“What about the animal killings?” Stiles pipes up when Mark is silent, still thinking.

“What killings?” Deaton asks sharply, looking at the teen.

“They were in the paper for a few days. Someone killed a few deer and one was carved into with a spiral. I think you had gone out of town to Washington to help your friend,” Stiles supplies, the Sheriff nodding. The man stands up and moves to his office, coming back a few minutes later with a file. Inside shows the police report and photos of the deer. One clearly shows the doe on her side, a jagged spiral carved into her flesh.

“This wasn’t hunters,” Deaton whispers, finger tracing the spiral slowly. “This symbol is used by packs to announce a desire for revenge. They place it where they know those who wronged them will see. It’s often seen as a declaration of war, especially when two pack are fighting. If this was in the newspaper, then the hunters saw it and are probably expecting to stop this revenge before it kills anyone. Maybe they thought Laura carved it. I can’t be sure without more information,” Deaton answers seriously, eyes worried as he looks at the two.

“We’ll know more once the autopsy is finished and we find Derek. Maybe he can answer some of these question,” Mark supplies. “Any advice?” he asks quietly, looking unsure. They’ve not had to deal with hunters and only one other werewolf, besides the one that bit his dad. Thankfully the omega had been easily swayed to leave the area, not wanting to deal with a supposed pack, despite it being just his dad and him.

“I suggest you keep ahead of this. Find Derek before the hunters do. Get him to your side and hope you can keep the hunters at arm’s length. They don’t know you’re a werewolf, let alone an alpha. This on top of your status as Sheriff could help you greatly. But try not to draw any attention to yourself, any more than necessary. Helping Derek might draw some suspicion, but if they just think you’re doing it because you’re the Sheriff, they might not look too closely,” Deaton advises.

“Okay. We can do that. Stiles, it seems your grounding is now even more in effect. Except for school, you go nowhere without telling me and getting my go ahead. You might be human, but that hasn’t stopped hunters before and I need to know you’re safe,” Mark announces heavily and Stiles groans loudly, already dreading his confinement but doesn’t try and worm his way out of it. This is serious and he promised his dad to listen when it comes to this stuff.

“I reserve the right to complain, a lot,” Stiles warns with a small smile.

“Noted,” Mark agrees, ruffling his son’s hair with a smile. “Deaton, thank you, for everything. It might be best if we kept our distance from each other. They know about your connection to the supernatural, more than likely, but I’ll keep you updated.”

“Of course, Sheriff. I’ll keep my eye out for Derek and send him your way,” he shakes Mark’s hand and pats Stiles on the shoulder. “Stay safe you two.”

Mark sees the vet out before coming back to the living room and collapsing on the couch next to his son, pulling the teen close. They don’t move for a while, just taking comfort in each other.

~*~

Mark jerks at the knock on his office door, so caught up in his work that he didn’t hear the steps approaching. He looks up and sees Sasha at the door and waves her in. “What is it?” he asks quickly, seeing the glint in her eye.

“You were right to have us looking for the brother. Mathews found him downtown. He’s bringing him here now. Should be here in about 10 minutes,” she tells him and his heart lurches at the news. He quickly stands and makes his way out of his office. “I’ve already set up the room for you,” she adds as he looks towards their interview room.

“Thank you. Take him there when they arrive but let him know he is not under arrest. I don’t want him thinking he’s in trouble. The man just lost his sister,” he reminds her and she nods but he’s sure she’s thinking about what else he lost. The Hale fire still hangs over the town, even after all this time. So much death is not easily forgotten.

Mark makes himself scares for the moment, not wanting to be visibly when the man is brought in. He’s only interacted with two werewolves to date and one he killed, so he’s not sure if Derek Hale will know right away about what he is.

Ten minutes later and he hears the patrol car pull up outside, Mathews talking to his passenger, though the man remains silent. He hears the front doors open and hears two pairs of footsteps. He listens as Mathews and Sasha talk, Sasha taking the man from the deputy and leading him to the interview room.

Mark waits a few minutes to gather himself and brace for the worst before he makes his way to the room. He stops by the one way mirror in a second room and gets his first look at Derek Hale. He’s young, though he knows the man’s is in her early 20s, he expected something…more, maybe. The werewolf is glaring straight ahead, not moving, though he can see the subtle sniffs he gives and knows the man can hear him in the room.

He makes his way back out and to the door, opening it without hesitating. He remembers this boy, remembers him and Laura sitting in the station, in shock and numbed by the fact that they had just lost their whole family. He’s getting tired of telling Derek Hale bad news.

Derek perks up when he enters, eyeing his badge and uniform and glaring at him but not saying a word. “Down son, you’re not in trouble,” Mark assures the man. He settles in the chair opposite, setting his files down before putting on a serious face and looking at the man. “Unfortunately, I have to be the barer of bad news. Your sister, Laura, was found two nights ago, murdered in the woods,” Mark informs him and waits. He expects some reaction, but when Derek just stares at him, only his hand clenching, Mark knows he is aware. “I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Derek hesitantly nods, “She was supposed to check in. It was supposed to be a quick trip here and back. When she didn’t check in, I got worried. When I heard the news about a woman found in the woods, I guessed,” Derek supplies. Mark hears no lies from the man, his heart steady.

“I am sorry for your lose, but I need to ask some questions,” Mark consoles and Derek nods, looking wary. “Why was your sister here?” he asks, cutting to the chase.

“She was checking on our uncle and dealing with something for the insurance,” Derek answers and Mark hears no lies, but he can tell it’s not the full truth.

“Do you know anyone who would want to kill her? Any enemies or people she might have had a run in with before?” he asks.

“No, not that I know of,” Derek supplies and Mark hears the lie, but doesn’t call him out on it. Hunters are not something he could really bring up in an interview with his deputies watching.

“Thank you. Now, this is hard but I need you to answer truthfully. We only found half of your sister’s body at the crime scene. Do you know where her other half is?”

He sees the way Derek’s whole demeanor shifts, hunching in on himself, the news hard to bare but he still hears the lie when Derek replies, “No, I don’t know. I didn’t…,” he doesn’t finish.

“I’m sorry to have to ask, but I needed to know for sure, son. You’re not in trouble. Do you have any questions?” he asks.

“I…no, no questions,” Derek answers, looking relieved.

“We will keep you updated of course and let you know of any new developments in our investigation. And again, I am sorry for your lose,” Mark adds.

“Thank you,” he says standing and Mark copies.

He leads the man out into the main area. “Are you staying anywhere, so we might be able to reach you?” he asks.

“Not yet. I just got into town,” Derek supplies and he hears truth.

“Of course. Here is my card if you have any questions or want to check in. It goes directly to my cell. Call any time. Now it seems your car isn’t here. I’ll drive you where it is,” Mark supplies.

Derek just nods, accepting the card and the offered ride. “Sasha, I’m heading out. Keep me updated, will you,” Mark calls to his deputy.

“Will do, Sheriff. Tell Stiles he needs to come by and visit soon. I have more cookies for him,” she answers and Mark nods.

“This way Mr. Hale,” Mark motions towards the door. He follows the man out of the building and leads the way towards the parking area, which thankfully, he parks near the back, away from any prying eyes and ears.

As Derek reaches for the door handle, Mark stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Now that we’re away from prying eyes, I can speak with you more freely Derek,” Mark says the man turning sharply to look at him and taking a step back as he sees the man’s eyes glowing red.

Derek growls, his own flashing blue in reaction. “Peace Hale. I mean no harm,” Mark assures, lifting his hands up to show he speaks truthfully.

“You weren’t-,” Derek starts.

“No. When the fire happened, I was human. I didn’t even know about our kind until some months after the fire when I was attacked by an alpha. I managed to kill it but,” Mark trails off.

“But you took their status,” Derek finishes.

“Yes. As far as I know, I’m the only one in town. When I saw it was Laura Hale that had been killed, I knew it had to have been hunters or some other creature. Preliminary reports show she was mauled by something before being cut in half. The mauling looked like claws, but the main cut was by a sharp edged blade of some sort. We’re not sure which killed her, yet. Son, are you sure you don’t know who killed her?” he asks.

Derek looks shell shocked by the sudden turn and leans heavily against the car. “I had thought hunters, but if something attacked her beforehand,” he says, rubbing at his face tiredly. The man probably hasn’t slept in a few days.

“We won’t know for sure until the official report comes out. I suggest you lay low…,” Mark adds and then pauses, looking the beta over. He looks beyond tired and well into numb and smells like he hasn’t showered recently. He also knows from experience that hotels aren’t the best place for their kind, with too many smells to allow a comfortable rest. “You said you didn’t have a place to stay?” he asks again.

Derek shakes his head. “Then you can stay with me and my son,” Mark offers. He holds up a hand at Derek’s protests. “Son, you’re a lone wolf in a town where hunters are prowling and possibly another unknown creature. We may not be pack, but it is the least I can do.”

“Why? This won’t do you any favors? In fact, they’ll be watching you more,” Derek asks, looking suspicious.

“Son, in my line of work, we often see the worst of the world. We see cause and effect and I’ve seen sad stories that would have ended differently if there had only been someone to lend a hand to an individual. The world is not a kind place and if I can help someone, I will. I am well aware that my taking you in will bring suspicion onto my house. I will do it anyways, because for our kind, there aren’t always those willing to help us,” Mark answers, voice sincere, heart steady.

“I…thank you,” Derek whispers, looking for a moment like the scared teen he had seen after the fire.

With a nod, Mark steps away, walking to his side of the car as Derek slides into the passenger side. The drive is silent, the only noise is the crackle of the radio as incidents are called in. Only about ten minutes go by before he’s pulling into his driveway.

He can hear Stiles’ heart in the house, calm and steady, the soft sound of music sounding from his location. Derek looks unsure, staring at this normal looking home. Mark guesses he hasn’t really been in a home like this in a while. “Come on,” he says softly.

“My car?” he asks.

“I’ll take you to it in a moment, I promise,” Mark assures. He follows the Sheriff out of the car and up the stone path to the main door, feeling unsure of himself as Mark opens the door and lets him in.

As he steps in, he takes a breath and smells the Sheriff’s scent heavy in the room, tangled with another he can only assume is the man’s son. There are traces of sadness and anxiety but for the most part, it smells happy. A pack of two content to be with each other. He remembers his own home smelling like this.

Derek stands awkwardly in the living room as Mark heads upstairs. He hears a knock and a yelp from upstairs. “Dad, I swear I will get a bell for you,” a teen’s voice sounds out followed by a chuckle from the Alpha.

“Come down stairs,” he says and then steps leading back down the stairs. The music shuts off and then a second set follow.

He’s not sure what to expect, but the lanky teen in front of him isn’t it. A buzz cut, layered shirts and bright amber eyes, pale skin and the scent of medication around him, he’s human. Mark motions Stiles into the living room. “Stiles, this is Derek Hale. He’s going to be staying here while we investigate Laura’s death. I figured you should meet before he showed up and startled you.”

Recognition sparks in the boy’s eyes and he nods. Obviously, Stiles is aware what his father is. “Okay, I’ll…um, get the guest room ready then. Uh, hi,” he says awkwardly, waving at the man in front of him. “Um, dad, can we talk, outside?” he asks.

Mark nods and follows his son outside. Derek tries not to listen in, but it’s hard when they’re right outside the back door. “Dad, are you sure? It going to be hard enough keeping you hidden from the hunters, but with him, it’s like you’re waving the red flag in the bull's face. They know what he is. Don’t you think they’ll get suspicious about you or even me if he’s staying here?” he asks and Derek applauds silently for the kid’s balls to stand up to an Alpha, let alone his father.

“I am aware, Stiles, but I can’t just turn him away. He’s all alone right now. You know what Deaton said,” Mark tells his son.

“A lone wolf is a dead wolf,” Stiles recites softly.

“Exactly. I have you, and he just lost his sister. I won’t turn him out just to avoid suspicion. I can’t,” Mark finishes.

Stiles sighs softly. “Ugh, why are you such an awesome dad,” he grumbles but the sound of cloth scrapping cloth tells Derek he’s hugging him. “Fine, it’s fine. Just, be careful.”

“I will. Now, we need to go and sort something out. We’ll be back by dinner,” he says and Derek turns away from the door, pretending to not have heard the conversation.

“Now, Mr. Hale, I believe we were going to your car,” Mark says with a nod towards Stiles.

“Derek,” he says back. “You don’t need to call me Mr. Hale.”

“Alright, Derek, let’s go. Stiles, we’ll be back,” Mark says and motions for Derek to go ahead of him. Once in the car, he’s silent as they drive, only telling him where they picked him up downtown.

“Why did you never build a pack?” he finally asks the question burning the tip of his tongue.

“Ah, I was wondering when you would ask,” Mark says with a sigh. Derek waits for him to continue.

“The short answer is it never felt right,” Mark says with a shrug. “The longer answer is, I don’t know how.” Derek jerks, confused at his words. “I know if I bite someone with the intent to turn them, they will turn or die. Deaton explained that much. It’s the whole pack thing I don’t know. I’ve never been in one. Deaton can only explain so much. You’re the second werewolf I’ve met since the night I was bitten. Not a lot of people to ask how to build and run a successful werewolf pack, is there.”

“Oh, I guess not,” Derek says with a shrug.

They sit in silence for a while longer before the car pulls up behind Derek’s Camaro, where he had left it parked behind a building. “Derek,” Mark says and Derek pauses in his reach for the door handle. “Where did you bury Laura’s other half?” he asks gently.

Derek whips his head around to stare at the Sheriff and sees understanding eyes staring back. No judgments, no demands or Alpha commands. Just a man who understands grief and the things it drives those left behind to do.

“I didn’t want them to find her. To do more,” Derek whispers, his hands shaking as he clenches them tight.

“I understand, but if we’re going to catch whoever did this, we need the full picture. I can’t help you Derek if you don’t trust me enough to know I will never let anyone harm her more. You have my word as an Alpha and the Sheriff. Her body will be safe with us.”

Derek swallows and nods. He gets out of the car and makes his way towards the Camaro. Starting it, he leads the Sheriff away from downtown, away from civilization and towards the preserve. Towards where his life ended in flames.

~*~

After he had called in the retrieval team to get Laura’s upper body, Mark had reminded the beta that his door is open before the man had fled into the woods. When Derek had shown him to the small spot of churned earth, he hadn’t been sure what to expect. The upper half of an actual wolf was not it.

He’d been surprised by the wolfsbane wrapped around her body and Derek had explained it kept her in her shifted form. As the rope had been pulled away, she shifted back to human. Derek had looked like one wrong word would shatter him.

Now, as he watches his team load the body bag into the ambulance to take her away, he feels the day settle over him. He’s exhausted and just wants to go home but there’s still paperwork to do, small breadcrumbs of information to erase. He can’t have Derek implicated in Laura’s death, but this had complicated matters. He knows for a fact if he had been human and unaware of what Derek was, he would have assumed the man had killed his sister. It’s not an easy thought.

Sasha walks over where he’s watching the team bag evidence. Thankfully, they had gotten rid of the rope. No need to make this even harder. “Sir, what do you want me to report?” she asks, softly.

This is why Sasha and he got on so well. She saw more than just what was in front of her. Not for the first time, he wonders if she knows about him or the supernatural. “I’ve spoken with Derek and he amended his statement. He arrived this morning and found her other half here at the house. He was distraught and in this state, he buried her, not realizing we had already found the rest of her. He informed me where to find her, and is willing to cooperate with us in the investigation.”

“Of course, sir,” she says with a nod. They stand there, watching the other’s work in silence. “Poor kid. To lose the rest of his family, except one. I don’t think I’d ever be able to move on.”

“Yeah,” Mark says, remembering his own grief. He shakes himself out of the mood. “I need to file some paperwork. Do you have everything handled here?” he asks her.

“Of course, Sheriff. I’ll let you know when we’re done here,” Sasha nods and strides away from him. Mark huffs a laugh before making his way towards his car. Derek’s Camaro is absent and he wonders idly if Derek will take him up on his offer. Giving a low sigh, he slowly backs out and turns his cruiser towards the station.

~*~

Stiles has dinner ready by the time he gets home. The scent of spaghetti and garlic bread reminding him that it’s been a while since he last ate. His son is alone, and he hears no other heartbeats nearby. Sighing, he slowly decompresses from work, going through his routine of stowing his weapons and gear before following the sound of his son’s steady heartbeat to the kitchen where three plates have been set out.

Stiles looks up and sees him alone. “Is Derek not coming?” he asks, looking unsure.

“Honestly, I don’t know. A lot has happened to him in the last few days. He’ll come when he’s ready,” Mark explains with a shrug, not offended by the beta’s absence. He walks closer and waits until Stiles has set the pot of spaghetti down before pulling his son in, hugging him tight. Seeing Laura’s body and Derek’s grief had reminded him too much of his loss of Claudia and that Stiles is all he has left to keep him sane and grounded.

Stiles doesn’t protest the hug, always up for one of his father heavy hugs, enjoying the contact. Taking a breath, he settles a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck for a second, squeezing and then let’s go. Grinning, Stiles heads for the stove to pull the garlic bread out as Mark heads for the fridge where the salad he knows has been prepared.

Grabbing a beer for himself and a soda for Stiles, he carries everything back to table and pauses, hearing a faint heartbeat from outside. He sets them down and makes his way towards the back door where he can faintly make out Derek’s silhouette in the tree line.

He opens the door and steps away, letting the beta decide whether to come in or not. As he nears the table, he hears the door close with a soft click and Derek stands awkwardly in the doorway, looking out of place.

Stiles jumps as he turns and see Derek standing there, Mark barely saving the container of salad dressing from ending up splattering on the floor. He hears Stiles’ mutter of “bells, so many bells” and ignores it in favor of setting the bottle down and nodding for Derek to sit. “Drink?” he asks.

“Water is fine,” Derek mumbles and Mark fills a glass from the fridge’s dispenser and setting it in front of the man. They don’t say grace or anything, just quickly fall into the routine of filling plates. As Stiles divvies out garlic bread, Mark spoons spaghetti onto his plate, before offering the same to Derek, Stiles plate already heaped with noodles.

Derek nods and silently, they finish filling their plates and eat. It’s probably the most awkward meal they’ve had in a while, though the sex talk dinner he had with Scott and Melissa is still the reigning champ, it’s not too bad.

Stiles, bless his son, fills the silence with inane chatter, bringing his father up to speed with his day at school, though he does glare at his father’s question about staying away from Scott, per his punishment. The teen sticks out his tongue and says he’s been a good boy and following his punishment. Derek frowns and then has to awkwardly explain why Stiles is being punished. The man looks more confused than anything else. He can emphasis with the man, his son is a piece of work some times.

Finally the meal ends and Derek stand awkwardly, not sure what to do. “You can leave or stay if you want, Derek. I won’t force you, but there’s a room ready if you want,” Mark assures.

“Um, I should probably shower,” he admits sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah, there’s towels under the bathroom sink. Um, I don’t think any of my stuff will fit if you need clothes, but some of dad’s might,” Stiles rambles.

Derek just nods and then steps outside to retrieve his duffel bag and then heads upstairs. As they start to pile the dishes in the sink, the sounds of water through the pipes sound from upstairs. “Is…is he going to be alight?” Stiles asks softly, hoping Derek can’t hear him over the running water.

“In time. And we’ll make sure the hunters don’t get him in the meantime,” Mark assures.

“About that,” Stiles says, stepping away as the sink fill with soapy water and he follows his son to his office. His office where his cork board is currently littered with papers and photos of Derek, Laura, the dead deer, the Hale fire articles, and sting running across the board in random patterns, different colored threads making a strange collage of evidence.

“When?” he asks, looking at his son.

“I’m good at multitasking,” Stiles says with a shrug, not mentioning the fact that he had to raid his father’s secret files to get a lot of this stuff. “I want to help, even if I can’t do much out there, I can make it easier for you here. If we can find a pattern, maybe we can find out who killed Laura.”

Mark pulls his son close, hugging him tight. “You make me so proud, you know that right?” he asks, pulling back to look at his son. Stiles smiles shyly and nods. He hears a shift in background noise. “The sinks almost full. Better turn it off before it overflows,” he warns and Stiles rushes out to do just that.

He turns back to the board where Laura’s face stares back at him. “I’ll find out who did this,” he whispers, eyes glowing red.

~*~

Stiles groans as he walks into the lunch room to sees Scott with Allison. He likes the girl but Scott is so head over heels for her that he wants to puke at the cuteness of his best friend. He can’t fault the boy though. He looks wistfully over at Lydia who is seated with Jackson, Danny and some of the other first liners for the Lacrosse team. If she ever gave him the time of day, he’d probably act the same way.

Deciding to give the two some privacy (plus they are technically still banned from hanging) and hoping to avoid the rumor mill about the bus driver that was attacked last night, he makes his way towards the library and eats his sandwich while texting his dad.

_Any news?_

_None._

_Do you think it was H or W?_

_Not discussing an open case with you Stiles. Get back to class._

_At lunch, bored without Scott to distract. Just a hint?_

_No Stiles, find something else to distract you._

_Ugh, fine grumpywolf._

His father decides not to respond to the taunt and Stiles sighs in frustration. He knows his father is just trying to spare him but the suspense is killing him. Plus, the only other thing that might distract him is the fact that Derek Hale has been staying at their house for the last three days.

Well, staying is a loose term. More like the man sleeps and showers there, occasionally eats dinner and disappears the rest of the day. He says he’s trying to lay low and not draw attention to the Sheriff by being seen there, which Stiles can appreciate, but it’s still weird. The only other person who has stayed with any regularity has been Scott and even that has only been every once in a while when they’ve marathoned games and movie series.

He hasn’t been idle either. Between keeping Deaton updated, school and chores, because he’s still in trouble despite the crisis, he’s been researching. Looking for anything strange recently besides the dead deer to see if something has been going on they didn’t realize. Also, in a very secret and encrypted folder his father doesn’t know about, he’s been researching the fire.

It was ruled an accident by insurance. Derek and Laura got a lot of money, Peter’s portion paying for his medical care while in the long term care ward of the hospital. But Derek told them it had been set by hunters, by Kate Argent. But without proof, witnesses, anything to point to her or her family, they have nothing. Just his word against hers and despite his money, the Argents have a lot of high up friends. They could bury any case against them without solid evidence to back their claim.

Stiles sighs in frustration again as the bell rings, signaling the end of his lunch period. He really hopes they get something soon.

~*~

“Stiles! Stiles!” Scott hisses loudly towards him as he heads for the main doors out now that class is over.

“Dude, you don’t want to test out leashes too much,” Stiles warns as he stops and steps closer. They’ve been leaving notes in each other’s locker to keep up to date. It’s like their parents don’t know them or something.

“I know, but I just, well, I wanted to properly introduce you to Allison,” Scott says with that big eyed stare he can’t resist.

“Fine, fine. Hello Allison, nice to finally officially meet you. I feel like I’ve known you forever just from Scott’s rambling notes all about you,” Stiles says with a grin.

“Stiles,” Scott hisses, blushing and glancing at his new girlfriend.

Allison giggles but looks to love the fact that he writes long rambling notes about her. God these two are made for each other. “Hi Stiles, nice to meet you. I’m Allison…Argent, in case you didn’t hear from my first day,” she adds.

He hadn’t actually because he had been home with his dad the day she arrived. His heart gives a lurch but he keeps the smile on his face and nods. “Yeah, I was out at the time. Well, I should probably run before we’re seen together and get in more in trouble with our parental units. Same time tonight on COD?” Stiles asks Scott.

“Oh, um…actually, Allison and I have a group date with Lydia and Jackson,” he confesses.

“Dude, what the hell?” he hisses, flailing at his friend.

“It kind of just happened. I couldn’t say no, dude. Lydia’s kind of scary and Allison seemed really excited about it,” Scott explains.

“Sorry Stiles, if I’d known he had plans,” Alison starts.

“No, it’s fine. Go have your date and have fun. Don’t do anything stupid,” Stiles warns and then gives a quick hug to his bro before walking away, mind in a spiral.

~*~

Stiles jump, pulling his headphones off as his father snaps his fingers in his face. “Hey dad,” Stiles says quickly.

“I’m going to ignore the scent of Scott on you if you tell me what’s got you all wound up,” his father bargains and Stiles cringes, remembering too late his father’s super sniffer.

“I just gave him a hug. He’s still my best friend,” Stiles grouses and his father arches a brow, not distracted by his words.

“Alright, alright, so Scott has a new girlfriend,” Stiles starts.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” his father replies.

“I know that, so not the point. He introduced me to her since I was home when she first came to school. Her name is Allison…Allison Argent,” Stiles finishes and his father jerks up as if stung. “Yeah, I know. Bit of a shocker to me too. She seems nice, but I don’t know if she’s in the know about all the supernatural stuff.”

“Jesus, son, you know how to find all the trouble,” Mark grouses but ruffles his son’s hair.

Stiles looks up and sees the distracted look on his dad’s face. “What’s up?” he asks quickly.

Mark sighs and sits on the edge of his bed. “The bus driver died a few hours ago. It looks like he was mauled by something. We’re officially ruling it an animal attack, the papers are going to say a mountain lion, but…”

“But you think it was a werewolf,” Stiles finishes for him.

Mark nods. “I asked Derek to look over the crime scene himself, see if he can pick up something I missed. He’s been at this a lot longer than I have,” Mark admits.

“I hope we figure this out soon,” Stiles says quietly.

~*~

Three days go by and nothing new happens, which is both a blessing and a curse. No one else dies, but there’s been nothing new to help them find the rogue werewolf. Deaton has been helping them as best he can without being obvious about it and Derek has been hunting by himself through the preserve looking for some sign of the rogue.

Stiles, for the most part, has been crawling with anxiety, researching anything he can, and reading Scott’s rambling notes about Allison. He now knows way more than he wanted to know about the girl, but nothing points to werewolf hunter and he’s not sure if it will.

Thankfully, it’s Saturday and he doesn’t have school. He’s been home all day doing chores, homework and research, with occasional bouts of staring at his father’s wall, trying to will the pieces into a pattern. So far, all he’s done is give himself a headache from staring too long and cleaned a large chunk of the house. His homework sits half-finished but he’s got tomorrow to finish it, so he’s not worried.

He trying to decide what to make for dinner soon. His dad is working a night shift and he’s not sure if Derek will come if his dad isn’t there, but he’s left the back door ajar just in case.

He’s just coming down the stairs, meal plan in mind, when he hears the back door open with a bang. Stiles jumps at the sudden noise. He’s so used to his dad and Derek being quiet that a sudden noise is startling to him.

Rushing downstairs, he stumbles into the kitchen, his foot catching on the hall rug. Only the door keeps him from completely face planting. Looking up, he see Derek leaned against the door jam. He’s pale and sweating, eyes boring holes into Stiles as he grits out, “Get your dad.”

“Shit,” he hisses, seeing the red blood on the man’s shirt sleeve, before pulling out his cellphone and hitting the first speed dial.

“Stiles, what’s up?” his dad’s distracted voice comes over the line.

“Dad, you need to get here now. Somethings happened to Derek and he’s not healing,” Stiles exclaims in a rush.

“Stiles, stay there, lock the door and call Deaton. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Mark barks out, sounding like he’s already gathering his things.

“Okay,” Stiles responds and the line goes dead.

“Alright, alright, here,” he pulls out a kitchen chair and helps the weakened werewolf sit in the chair, before rushing back to the door to close and lock it securely.

Phone still in hand, he hits the second speed dial, Deaton’s number popping up. “Stiles, what can I help you with?” he asks on the other end, sounding distracted.

“Something’s happened to Derek. He’s bleeding and not healing,” Stiles exclaims again.

“Stiles put me on speaker,” Deaton orders and Stiles complies. “Derek, what happened?” Deaton asks aloud.

The beta huffs, “Hunter, shot me, wolfsbane bullet,” he grits out in pain as he pulls back the sleeve to show the bullet hole. The blood, which was at first red, is starting to turn black, dark veins of it spreading from the wound.

“It doesn’t look good Deaton,” Stiles whispers.

Deaton gives a low hum as he thinks through his response. “I can’t come there, not without drawing every hunter’s eye to the house. So, you either need to find a way to get him here, or we work you through this Stiles.”

“What?” he squawks out in dismay at the thought of having to put his hands around the wound.

“Your father’s almost here,” Derek grits out, hearing the approaching car. He hears the screech of tires as the Sheriff parks in the driveway.

The front door opens a second later. “Stiles!” Mark calls out.

“Kitchen,” Stiles says, the Alpha appearing a second later.

“Deaton, that you?” Mark asks, taking in the phone and the beta’s wounded arm.

“I’m here, Sheriff. I was just explaining that you will either need to bring him to me or Stiles will need to do this himself,” Deaton explains patiently.

“I still don’t understand why I have to?” Stiles asks quickly, looking panicked.

“Stiles, the bullet contains aconite powder in it. Neither your father nor Derek can touch it without poisoning themselves, even more in Derek’s case. We need to stop even more poison from entering his blood stream. That bullet needs to come out now,” Deaton explains.

“But,” Stiles whispers, looking pale and taking a gulp.

“You can do this, Stiles,” Mark reassures.

“Okay, okay, I…walk me through this Deaton,” Stiles says helplessly.

“Sheriff, you’ll need to hold him. This is painful and I’d hate for him to accidentally hurt Stiles,” Deaton says.

Mark steps up behind the beta, hand on his shoulders for the moment, “Got it.”

“Derek, place your arm on a flat surface, fully extended. Stiles, if you have any tweezers, you can use them but it will probably be easier to find the bullet with your fingers,” Deaton advises.

“Alright, hang on, I’ll be right back,” Stiles says with a determined look before he rushes upstairs to the bathroom. They hear something fall, Stiles’ muttered curse and then the boy rushes down, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “It’s poisonous to humans to,” Stiles reasons at their looks.

“Ready?” Mark asks.

“Ugh, as I’ll ever be. Sorry about this Derek,” he offers to the beta before stepping forward to the arm resting on their kitchen table. His dad has an arm over Derek’s chest and a hand holding down the extended arm.

He looks at it closely, taking in the seeping blackness. “Is he supposed to be bleeding black?” Stiles asks curiously.

“It’s his body’s reaction to the poison,” Deaton supplies and Stiles files it away for later and plunges his fingers into the bullet hole.

Derek growls in pain, his eyes flashing blue, but holds still as Stiles digs deeper. The wound goes deep and he swears he’s almost to bone before he feels a sharp edge against his finger tip. He understands now why Deaton recommended his fingers instead of tweezers. It’s easier to recognize the feel of metal from anything else.

“Found it,” Stiles mutters, sweating.

“Alright, pull it out. Try not to leave anything in the wound,” Deaton says softly from the phone.

Nodding, he gets a grip on the bullet. It feels whole, nothing grinds against itself, so he guesses the bullet it whole. With a quick tug, he pulls his hand free, the bullet coming out as well. Derek grits his teeth and he watches his father strain to keep the beta from shifting from the chair.

Stiles set the bullet on the table and steps away. “Is that it?” he asks quickly.

“Almost, we need to flush it, to make sure all of the bullet is out. Water or alcohol will do,” Deaton advises and Stiles rushes to the sink to grab a cup and fill it, stopping to grab a towel. Slowly, he pours it over the wound, watching black and red well up and drip down his arm onto the towel but no glints of metal.

“I don’t see anything except red and black,” Stiles says aloud for Deaton. “Do we do anything else?”

“For the moment, no,” Deaton assures and Stiles sighs. “Now we have to find an untainted source of the wolfsbane used on him.”

“What?” Stiles asks quickly as his dad steps back from Derek now that he’s stopped thrashing. He still looks pale and sick and the wound hasn’t closed.

“You removed the bullet so you’ve slowed the poison down, but he still has some in him. It _will_ kill him unless we can cure it. Derek, did you see who shot you?” Deaton asks.

“Yeah,” Derek says, his voice sounding rough. “Kate Argent.”

“What?” Mark asks explosively, eyes shining red.

“Mark, calm down. We need to be focus,” Deaton admonishes from the phone and his dad calms a bit.

“I was patrolling, looking for a sign of the rogue. She caught me by surprise. I ran and took the bullet in the arm. She was aiming for my heart,” Derek croaks out.

“How long?” Mark asks quietly.

“A few hours, six max, before it reaches his heart,” Deaton answers.

“So how do we break into a hunter’s home and steal their ammo?” Stiles asks in the silence.

~*~

“I don’t like this,” his dad mutters from Stiles’ passenger seat.

“Look, it’s the only way. You can’t go barging in there without probable cause and we can’t explain the black blood and bullet wound and supernatural stuff to someone without exposing everything,” Stiles grouses again. They’re down the road from the Argent house.

“We can find another way,” Mark insists.

“Dad, I can handle this. Trust me,” Stiles asks softly.

“It’s not about trust in you, Stiles. They’re hunters, killers. I don’t trust them to leave you alone just because you’re human,” Mark answers honestly.

“Well, it’s not like we have much choice at the moment,” Stiles says with a shrug and points towards the door.

Mark sighs. “If anything feels off, even the slightest thing, you leave, you hear me?” he demands quietly.

“I promise,” Stiles assure. His father gives a one armed hug and then slips from the car in plain clothes, slipping between two dark houses silently before disappearing into the woods. He’ll keep watch from afar.

Taking a breath to calm himself, Stiles continues to drive until he’s parked in front of the house. The lights are on inside and he doubts they don’t know he’s here. Getting out, he makes his way to the door and rings the doorbell.

When the door opens, he greeted by a terrifying woman with blonde hair and sharp eyes. “Can I help you?” she asks sweetly, eyeing him up and down with a smirk.

Stiles puts on his most charming grin, “Is Allison available?” he asks quickly.

“It’s late and she’s not taking social visits,” the woman says with a wink and starts to close the door.

“It’s not social, I promise. It’s school related,” Stiles says earnestly.

“Aunt Kate, seriously, it’s fine,” he hears Allison say from behind her and sees her head peek around her Aunt. “Stiles, what’s up?” she asks sweetly.

“Hey so, I’m in a bit of a pinch and I could really use your help,” Stiles says with a grin.

“Come in then, Stiles,” Kate says with a smile, opening the door wide and letting him step in.

Kate steps away, leaving them mostly alone. “So, what do you need help with?” Allison asks sweetly.

“Do you have your notes for Ms. Larden’s class?” he asks quietly.

“I…yeah, I do,” she says with a nod.

“Could I borrow them or get a photocopy or something, please? My notes are all electronic and my computer crashed and my whole essay we’re supposed to turn in Monday is on it and I can’t get it fixed until Monday afternoon at the latest but the essay is _due_ Monday, so please, please, please?” he asks.

“Sure, I don’t mind. Just don’t use my notes in your paper and we’re good,” she says with an easy grin. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Scott for his note,” she says, leading him into the house and up the stairs.

“Obviously you haven’t seen Scott’s note or you would understand that that is a last resort,” Stiles assures her and she laughs.

“I’ll copy them on my printer,” she says, pulling out a small stack of papers from her school binder.

“Allison, does your friend want to stay for dinner?” Kate’s voice calls up.

“Do you?” she asks.

“Sorry, I’ve got to make dinner for my dad before he heads on shift,” Stiles apologizes. “Look, if you’re in the middle of something, I’ll just stay up here and when it’s done, I’ll head out,” Stiles tells her.

“Sure, I just need to help finish setting up the table for dinner then I’ll be back up,” she says, starting her printer to start copying her notes.

As soon as she is out of sight downstairs, Stiles slips from the room and searches for Kate’s room. He thanks any deity listening when the first door he opens shows a guest room with a few duffel bags thrown on the bed, emptied recently of their load.

Rushing quietly towards the wardrobe, he slowly opens it and begins to search. The first area is just clothing and he reaches for the second drawer, pulling it open and silently fist pumps when he finds a small wooden box with strange writing on it. Lifting it up, he finds neatly lined up bullets with a few empty spots of recently removed bullets.

Quickly pulling out one, he slips it onto his sock, shuts the case and places it back as quickly as he can before shutting the wardrobe and silently making his way back out into the hall. He barely makes it back to Allison’s room before he hears her coming back.

Looking at the printer, he sees it’s done and quickly grabs the papers. Allison appears in the doorway. “All done?” she asks.

“Yep, you’re a life saver. I’ll bring cookies as repayment on Monday,” he tells her and she nods with a smile. “I’ll get out of your hair then.”

Kate is longing against the wall as they come down the stairs. “You sure you can’t stay?” she asks with a grin.

“Sorry again, but if I don’t watch his diet my dad will eat nothing but take out. Got to watch the Sheriff’s heart and make healthy meals for him so he can keep doing good work,” Stiles says with a grin and he notices the way Kate stiffens at the mention of his father.

“Well, we won’t keep you then. Have a good night Stiles and good luck on your paper and getting your computer fixed,” Allison says sincerely, Kate nodding with a thoughtful look before Stiles steps out the door and it closes.

He doesn’t relax until he’s in his jeep and halfway home before he pulls over to the side of the road, taking a huge shuddering breath to release the tension. Bending down, he pulls the bullet from his sock and looks at it. It looks like any ordinary bullet but he knows what it’s for.

He jumps when his passenger door opens, but it’s just his dad sliding in, looking only slightly winded from following him as he drove. “Let’s get back home,” he says and Stiles restarts his jeep and finishes the drive home.

~*~

“Do you have it?” Deaton asks over the phone.

“We have it,” Stiles says triumphantly.

“Good, now, you need to open the bullet to get the powdered aconite out. It should be contained near the bullet’s tip,” he says and Stiles quickly gets to work, prying the bullet apart.

A small pile of almost innocuous powder rests on the table but the way his dad and Derek eye it, it’s definitely wolfsbane.

“Good work,” Deaton says when Stiles informs him.

“We don’t need all of it, so save some for me to examine. I can figure out which strand of wolfsbane it is so we can know which to use if either of you ever get poisoned by her again,” Deaton says and Stiles takes a razor blade and cuts the powder into two piles, scraping some into a small jar and sealing it shut.

“Now, find a lighter,” he tells them and Mark finds the grill lighter in the junk drawer. “You need to ignite the powder until it’s nothing but ash, then place the ash directly into the wound.”

“What?” Stiles asks.

“The ash is the antidote and it will allow Derek to purge the poison. This will be painful. I recommend holding him again and having a bucket on hand. This will probably be messy,” Deaton warns. Stiles burns the powder while his dad fetches the bucket Stiles uses for mopping from under the sink.

“Ready?” Stiles asks, wearing another pair of gloves, just in case.

Derek nods, looking worse than when Stiles left. The black veins are half way up his arm. His dad grips him tight and Stiles scoops the ash into a spoon before pouring it directly onto the wound and shoves it into the bullet hole.

Derek rears back, head smacking into his dad’s nose unexpectedly, and the crunch of breaking bone loud in the tense silence as the beta’s eyes flash. Derek gasps and begins to hunch, a look like he’s about to throw up on his face.

Stiles scrambles with the bucket, quickly getting it to Derek before the beta pukes up black ichor into the bin. “Ugh,” he exclaims at the sight and Derek rolls his eyes, spitting a glob into the bucket before sitting back.

His dad lets him go, putting a hand up to stem the flow of blood from his nose as he quickly realigns the cartilage before it heals badly. “Well this was fun,” he grouses, standing there with a bloody t-shirt.

“Everything good then?” Deaton asks from the phone.

“We’re fine,” Derek answers hoarsely, clearing his throat.

“Stiles, bring me the wolfsbane when you can. Derek, I recommend you lay low for now. They know you’re here and they’re out for blood. Don’t give them any opportunities,” Deaton says with a sigh. “Now if you three will excuse me, I’m going to get back to what I was doing before your call.”

“Night Deaton,” Stiles calls out.

“Thank you,” Mark says quietly.

“You’re welcome. Good night,” he replies and hangs up.

“Well, this has been fun boys, but I really need to get back to work. Stay here and don’t leave. I’ll be back after four,” Mark says with a weary sigh.

Derek nods and shakily stands, heading up the stairs to go clean himself off. Stiles slowly starts to clear the table. Mark sidles up to him. “You did good work. I’m proud of you, but let’s hope this doesn’t need to happen again,” he says with a weary sigh.

“Same,” Stiles admits with a shudder.

“Finish cleaning up here and don’t worry about making dinner. You can order some pizzas tonight,” his dad offers, pulling out his wallet and handing Stiles a twenty dollar bill.

“I should probably order meat lovers, shouldn’t I?” Stiles asks with a grin.

“More than likely,” Mark says back with a grin of his own. “Now, I’m going to go change and then head back out. Stay safe,” he whispers softly, dragging Stiles in for a hug and pressing a quick kiss to his temple before stepping away and walking upstairs to change back into his uniform.

~*~

The dinner table is tense and awkward and Stiles shifts subtly, not sure how to break the silence between the two werewolves. His dad had informed him this morning about the attack on the movie store clerk and how Jackson and Lydia had been the ones to call it in.

Derek had gone to the scene as subtly as possible but hadn’t been able to pick anything new up. The frustration coming from the two is palpable. Stiles clears his throat and Mark turns to look at him.

“So, dad,” Stiles begins.

“What is it?” he asks, not looking easily fooled by Stiles calm tone.

“I was hoping you’d let me go out,” Stiles starts.

“No,” Mark says with a shake of his head.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Stiles grouses and he waves a hand for him to continue. “I…I wanted to go check up on Lydia. She wasn’t at school and well…she might have seen something,” Stiles says with a determined look. “We need something.”

“Do you want to check on her because you care or because you think she has information?” Mark asks, taking his son seriously.

“Both, to be honest. She probably thinks she going crazy right now thinking she saw something. I know I would if I wasn’t aware of all…this,” he says, waving between the two werewolves.

“Alright, don’t be long and only there and back,” Mark agrees with a nod.

“Thanks,” Stiles says with a grin, shoving his last forkful of dinner into his mouth before taking his plate and cup to the sink to run water over it. “I’ll be back soon,” Stiles assures his dad, hugging him quickly before rushing out of the room.

~*~

“Hi Mrs. Martin, is Lydia available?” Stiles asks quietly, as the woman opens the door.

“And you are?” she asks, eyeing the teen in front of her.

“I’m Stiles…Stilinski. One of Lydia’s classmates. She wasn’t in today and I heard about what happened and wanted to check to make sure she’s alright,” Stiles says quickly, giving a small smile.

“That’s sweet of you. She’s been so distraught over what happened. Maybe a friend will help her get better. Come in,” she says with a wave and Stiles steps into the foyer, taking in the artful and cold decorations adorning the walls of the home. It looks…uninviting, like its meant to be seen not lived in.

“Up the stairs, second door on the left,” she says before making her way to the living room where Stiles can see a glass half full of wine and a nearly empty bottle. Mrs. Martin sways slightly as she walks away and he can guess why she so easily let him in.

Still, he’s here for a reason and putting it out of his mind, he quickly goes up stairs, looking for Lydia’s door. He finds it easily, the door open a few inches. He spies her sitting up in bed, staring at something on her phone.

Tapping on the door, he opens it slowly. She jerks and looks up seeing him there. “Stiles, what are you doing here?” she asks, her words slightly slurred. She sets her phone aside as he steps in.

“Sorry for bothering you. Just wanted to check up when I heard what happened and saw you weren’t in class today,” Stiles says with an easy shrug.

“Oh, I’m good, for having seen a dead man. I…mom gave me something to help,” she says with a slight giggle and Stiles frowns as she points to a small pill bottle. Walking over, he looks at the label and sees anxiety medication.

“Lydia, this isn’t for…,” he stops, seeing she’s passed out on the bed. “Jeez, this is ridicules.” He grabs her arm and gently turns her onto her side, just in case before tucking the blankets around her.

He’s just about to leave when he spies her phone, still open to some video she was watching. Something about it draws him to pick it up and press play. He nearly drops the phone in shock when a pair of red eyes glow from the shadows and something huge springs from the shadows, bounding past Lydia’s spot and away into the night.

Hands shaking, he quickly sends the video to his phone and then deletes it from hers before turning it off and setting it back on the table. He creeps down the stairs but he doesn’t need to worry. Mrs. Martin is passed out asleep on the couch. Sighing, he walks over and turns her as well, not wanting the woman to asphyxiate in her sleep should she vomit and then leaves, locking the bottom lock behind him.

~*~

Mark and Derek hear Stiles return, his jeep parking in the driveway. When they don’t hear him get out, Mark gets a little worried and stands, walking towards the door. He’s nearly to the door when he hears his door open and his son get out, rushing towards the house.

Mark waits in the hall for him as he rushes into the house, not even looking startled to see his dad waiting for him. Mark drags in a breath and smells nervousness. “What happened?” he ask softly.

“Aside from Mrs. Martin being drunk and Lydia hopped up on anxiety medication?” Stiles asks with a twist of his mouth, looking upset by that.

“Stiles?” Mark asks, seeing something on his son’s mind.

“You guys might want to see this,” he says, walking towards the kitchen where Derek is lingering.

They’re both silent as the video plays on repeat, all fifty-three seconds of it. Nearly a full minute of nothing before suddenly there’s an Alpha werewolf running through the shot.

“So the rogue is an Alpha,” Mark says quietly.

“Yeah,” Derek says with a grunt, eyes hard.

“So, here’s my question: were they an Alpha before killing Laura or did they take her status?” Stiles asks quietly.

“You think that’s why she was attacked?” Mark asks, eyeing his son. Derek looks pained at the question.

“Well think about it. A werewolf symbol of revenge shows up and then suddenly Laura Hale comes back to Beacon Hills after not returning since the fire. Someone sent it to her,” Stiles breaths, the puzzle pieces clicking together.

“Derek, was she acting weird before she left?” Mark asks, looking at the beta.

“I…I don’t know, maybe. I…I remember she got a letter in before she left, but when she told me she needed to take care of some insurance stuff in person, I assumed it was that. What werewolf would have a grudge against her?” he asks, looking lost.

“Maybe an old enemy, or someone trying to take the Hale Territory,” Mark offers. “This is still your territory, despite you two living in New York.”

“That still doesn’t explain the bus driver or the movie store clerk. They were human and unconnected to the supernatural as far as we can tell. Why kill them if he’s already killed Laura and possibly stolen her status as Alpha?” Stiles asks with a frown.

“Past grievances with them, maybe. People can hold grudges for years. Maybe we need to look into these two people a little closer than we have, see what they have in common,” Mark says with a look at his son.

“Great, now I have to worry about a crazy Alpha running around, and hunters,” Stiles grouses, rubbing his head and Mark huffs, patting him on the back before he and Derek stand to go into his office.

~*~

“Detention, Stiles?” Mark sighs over the phone as Stiles sits in the library, a free period allowing him to inform his father the bad news.

“Look, Harris is an asshole and angry because I proved him wrong in his own hypothesis,” Stiles grouses, rubbing his eyes.

“And I’m sure you rubbing it in his face loudly and obnoxiously didn’t help him not be angry?” Mark asks with a drawl, knowing his son.

“Yeah,” Stiles admits sheepishly.

Mark lets out a sigh through his nose. “Fine, we’ll discuss this later. Come home right after and try not to get into more trouble, for my sanity at least,” Mark asks him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try,” Stiles grouses and his father laughs before hanging up.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur and then he’s walking towards detention. Mrs. Geldmen, the elderly librarian, is standing behind the desk in the front, checking off names as people come in. Stiles snorts when he sees Scott sitting near the back.

Stiles rushes over, sitting in the seat next to him. “Dude!” he hisses, grinning. “What’d you do?” he asks quietly.

“Got caught passing notes with Allison. Harris was on a war path and tossed me in detention and gave Allison a warning,” Scott moans forlornly.

“Sorry, that might have been my fault. I kind of pissed him off and he also threw me into detention,” Stiles says with a grin and Scott laughs.

“What’d you do?” Scott asks back.

Stiles is about to explain when there’s a clearing of a throat up front and Mrs. Geldmen stands up, looking at them. “You will be silent and do busy work for the next two hours,” she informs the two of them and the one girl up front. Sighing, Stiles pulls out his homework and starts to work on it.

The hours go by faster than he thought and soon, he and Scott are heading down the hall to the parking lot, the sun setting. “Dude, you did that to his face?” Scott crows as they near the front steps of the school.

“Yep, you should have seen his face,” Stiles says with a grin. “Totally worth the detention.”

“Well, I guess you should head home,” Scott says with a sigh.

Stiles looks around for Scott’s mom’s car. “You didn’t have her car today?” he asks.

He rubs the back of his head. “I’ve been catching rides from Allison lately, but with detention, she couldn’t wait. Mom said she’d swing by and grab me after work. Should be about an hour, but I don’t mind waiting,” Scott says with ease.

“Dude, I’ll wait with you,” Stiles says, not wanting to leave his friend alone with a crazed Alpha on the loose.

“But, our punishment?” Scott asks.

“My dad and your mom would rather I not leave you alone in the middle of the parking lot by yourself at night,” Stiles assures. “I’ll text my dad and let him know what’s up.”

_Scott was in detention too. Waiting with him until Mrs. McCall gets here._

_That’s smart. Stay safe and keep a look out._

_Will do, love you._

“See, dad’s fine with it,” Stiles assures.

“Alright, but do you mind if we sit in your jeep, it’s getting cool out,” Scott asks, and Stiles sees him shiver.

“Sure man,” Stiles says and they start walking towards the jeep. The sun is getting lower, sending long shadows and at first, Stiles doesn’t notice it. Until Scott points it out. “Dude, someone scratched the hell out of your car!”

“What?” he runs around to the passenger side and sees what his friend is pointing at: a long and deep scratch spiraled into the door.

Stiles heart skips a beat, jerking his head up, glancing around. “Stiles?” Scott asks, worried at the look on Stiles’ face.

“Scott, we need to get into the school now,” Stiles says softly.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, following Stiles as the teen starts to back away from the jeep, looking at the shadows around them.

“I’ll explain later. We need to move,” Stiles hisses and then freezes, eyes wide at the bright red eyes staring from the shadows on the other side of the parking lot. “Scott, run!” Stiles yells, grabbing his friend’s arm and pulling, rushing back towards the school.

A low howl goes up and Stiles’ heart beats faster. “What was that?” Scott asks, panting as they near the school’s front door.

“Questions later, just run,” Stiles gets out, pulling the door open and shoving Scott through and slamming it closed, cursing when he sees there is no actual lock to turn, only a key hole.

“Shit, come on. We need to find somewhere to hide,” Stiles says, dragging Scott off again.

“Stiles, slow down, I can’t,” Scott gasps, his breathing labored and Stiles curses as Scott’s asthma flares up. He spies their lockers and pulls him to a stop, fumbling the lock before pulling out the emergency inhaler he keeps in there, tossing it to Scott who takes a quick drag from it.

“Come on,” he hisses and pulls the teen into the first class room he comes across. It’s a math room. They quickly shove the bookcase next to the door in front of it before Stiles turns and groans as he realizes there’s a bunch of low windows into the room.

He quickly fumbles his phone out, hitting speed dial and waiting, heart in his throat. “Hey Stiles, can it wait?” Mark asks into the phone, obviously in the middle of something.

“Dad,” Stiles whispers and he hears the man stop what he’s doing.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“It…it’s here, outside the school. Scott, Scott in I are in the school…I don’t…I don’t know what to do,” Stiles say faltering over his words, panic chocking him.

“Stiles, stay there, find a place for you and Scott to hide and stay there. I’m coming,” Mark calls over the phone.

The sound of something scratching against glass has him turning to see a pair of glowing red eyes outside the window in the darkness as claws slowly scratch over the glass. “Sorry dad, I don’t know how easy that will be,” Stiles says with a hitch in his throat as he pockets the phone and steps back.

Scott is staring, transfixed to his spot by the door, breathing shallow. “Scott, follow my lead,” Stiles whispers and the teen nods numbly.

Stiles turns quickly and they push the bookcase away quickly, stumbling out of the room into the hall. He glances back but the Alpha is gone. He’s not sure if that’s good or bad.

They make a mad dash down the hall, hoping to find someplace with no windows. As Stiles rounds the corner into the next hall, he skids to a stop, Scott colliding into him. It’s there, in front of them, hulking, towering over them. It stands slightly hunched, bipedal but more wolf than human. Rippling muscles covered in fur, a slightly protracted snout with white fangs bared in a snarl.

Stiles stands frozen, Scott behind him. The little part of his brain that is prey screams to run, flee, to get away from the predator before him. But he knows he can’t. They won’t be fast enough to get away. He glances around for anything to use, but it’s just rows of lockers on either side. The closest door is about fifty feet away. They’d never make it before it was on them.

A deep rumbling growl echoes down the hall and then it steps closer. That little part of his brain grows bigger and takes control. He grabs Scott’s arm and pulls, turning and running away as fast as he can. He hears is chasing and nearly screams as heavy jaws snap at his heels.

Up ahead, he hears a voice, “Scott?” Stiles heart freezes as Melissa McCall comes into view.

“Mom, run!” Scott screams and her face goes white at the thing barreling down on them.

Something catches Stiles’ foot and he goes down, skidding to a stop. Scott still running, turns and stares in horror as the thing looms over Stiles. “No!” the scream is drowned out by the Alpha’s growl before it rears back to slash. Scott rushes forward and pushes Stiles out of the way, it’s claws sinking into his side.

“Scott!” Melissa screams out.

A second roar echoes down the hall and then Stiles turns to see his dad rushing down the hall, wolfed out, eyes red as he charges the Alpha. The Alpha rears back and slashes at his dad, but he ducks, firing his gun at it. It roars, backpedaling and Derek springs from behind his dad, slashing out, driving it back, away from the teens.

It gives one last growl before turning and fleeing away, back down the hall and disappearing from sight. “Oh god, Scott!” Melissa cries out, skidding to a stop beside her son who’s bleeding on the floor, face pale and eyes wide in fear.

“Mom,” he whispers.

“Hang on, hang on sweetie! We’ll call an ambulance and you’ll be alright,” she whispers, pulling her jacket off and pressing it against his side where four deep gashes are bleeding heavily.

“Melissa,” Mark says softly and she looks up, eyes fearful.

“He’s bleeding too much, he won’t make it,” he tells her, eyes somber.

“He will! We just…” she cries out, but she stops, looking at the puddle of blood around her son. He’s already lost so much blood.

“I…I can save him,” Mark says softly, kneeling down to look her in the eye. “But, there are consequences to this offer. He will change, to be like me and Derek. He won’t be wholly human. There is a chance it can kill him, but he’s already dying.”

“Mom,” Scott whispers, barely conscious.

“I..I can’t make this call,” she whispers, tears running down her cheeks. “Scott, you have to decide.”

“I don’t want to die and leave you alone,” he says with a look at his mother. “Please, do it.”

Melissa sobs softly, holding his hand as his dad steps back, focusing before he opens his eyes, showing the red of the Alpha. Bending down, he pulls Scott close, lifting his shirt and biting in the soft tissue of his side, above the slashes already there. Scott grunts at the new pain but doesn’t do much else.

Slowly, his eyes close. “Scott, stay awake,” Melissa begs, gripping his hand.

“His heart is still beating,” Mark assures her.

Stiles stares in horror at his best friend covered in blood, not sure how to take this. Minutes drag by that feel like hours, but Stiles can only stare at his friend’s chest, watching it rise shallowly with each labored breath.

When thirty minutes goes by and he’s still breathing, Mark nods. “It’s taken,” he whispers to Melissa. “We need to move him and get this cleaned up,” he says softly and Stiles offers to go with Derek to look for the janitor’s closet.

They’re quiet as they find the closest and pull cleaning supplies from the room. Stiles is in shock still and can’t seem to process much beyond that Scott is going to live. Derek and Melissa quickly clean up the blood, Stiles staying close to his dad who is cradling Scott in his arms.

Once everything is cleaned enough to not draw any suspicion, they leave. Scott is placed in the cruiser with his dad, Melissa takes her own car and Derek joins Stiles in his. His hands are trembling but he is still able to focus enough to drive.

Back at the house, they all pile in, still in a state of shock. Melissa, still in nurse mode, orders them around, having Scott stripped of his bloodied clothes and cleaned off. The wounds, when she checks them, are healing and she gives a soft whine at that, not sure how to take it.

They bundle Scott up in some of Stiles’ clothing before putting him in Stiles’ bed to sleep and finish turning. His dad helps Melissa into the living room to talk while Derek stays up near the room, keeping an eye on Scott.

Stiles goes into the kitchen and then just stares at nothing, not sure why he came in here. Glancing down, he sees blood on his hands, under his fingernails. Eyes stinging, he walks to the sink and turns the water on, pulling the soap out and starts to scrub, red water running down the drain.

He doesn’t realizes he’s been standing there scrubbing his hands raw until he feels a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn from the sink. “Stiles, it’s okay. Breath,” Mark says softly, reaching out to turn off the water.

Stiles shakes his head, panic cloying and thick in his throat. His heart is racing, breath ratcheting up with each second his mind spirals. “Shh,” Mark whispers, pulling him to his chest and something breaks and he clings to his dad, sobs muffled into his chest.

He’s not sure how much time later, he pulls away from his dad to find them on the floor, his dad wrapped around him. “I thought, god when I got your call, my heart stopped,” he whispers to Stiles. “And then, I saw the blood and at first I thought it was you and I just…I can’t go through that again.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles whispers, voice croaking from the scratchy feeling after crying.

“I know but I’m not,” Mark says, still holding him and Stiles sags back into his father’s tight hold, letting the Alpha hold him tight as the man has his own panic episode.

Finally, they both stand. Melissa is still sitting in the living room when they get back. Stiles walks over and hugs her, the woman clinging to the boy she considers a second son. “I almost lost you both,” she whispers.

“He’s nearly healed,” Derek announces from the stairs. “You might want to be there when he wakes up.”

Mark and Melissa quickly walk up the stairs, leaving Stiles and Derek in the living room. Derek silently sits next to Stiles. “Are you alright?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, I’m...I’m alright,” Stiles says with a small nod.

Derek looks, well, less constipated but a little relieved. Awkwardly, he pats Stiles on the shoulder and heads into the kitchen to clean up in there.

~*~

Mark stands in his son’s room, while Melissa sits on the bed, waiting for Scott to wake up. He’s not sure what he expected when he offered the bite to save Scott, but this…awareness of the teen is not it. It doesn’t give a lot of information, but he can sense that Scott is…his. His beta, tied together by the bite.

Melissa is eyeing him when he comes back to himself. “How are you holding up?” he asks her.

“To be honest, I’m in shock. This is…so much to take in. I doubt I would have believed you if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” she admits somberly.

“I need you to know I never meant for this to happen. I thought he would be safe from this, but he was hurt because of me,” Mark says softly, anger bubbling in his chest.

“You said the thing is…rogue you called it,” Mark nods. “Then how can you blame yourself for the insanity of one person? You can’t predict everything, Mark,” she tells him, eyes calm and clear in her convictions.

Mark wants to respond but can’t find the words in his gratitude. He doesn’t need to as Scott lets out a soft groan and stars to wake up.

Melissa sits closer, grabbing her son’s hand in a tight grip. “Scott,” she calls softly.

“Mom, what?” he asks softly before his eyes open and he starts to sit up.

Melissa pushes him back down with a hand to his chest. “Best to stay down and finish healing,” she says.

“It…I remember it attacked and then pain and the Sheriff and…what was that thing?” he asks quickly.

“A werewolf, more precisely, an Alpha werewolf. It’s what killed those two men and Laura Hale,” Mark explains quietly.

“Are you…” Scott can’t finish his sentence.

“Yes, I am also an Alpha werewolf, though only for a few years now,” Mark explains.

“Is Stiles one?’ he asks.

“No, Stiles is human,” Mark tells him.

“Why was it at the school?” he asks quietly, voice fading as sleep tugs him back down.

“I don’t know,” Mark says, looking at Melissa with anger in his eyes, “But it will regret attacking you and my son.”

~*~

Stiles stares groggily at his cereal, not sure if he wants to eat it or not. After his dad and Melissa had come back down, they had talked for a while, explaining everything to her: his dad being bitten, Deaton, the hunters, the Alpha, everything about what Scott had joined into.

She had looked fearful when they explained the werewolf hunters in town but Mark assured her he would do everything in his power to protect her son. She had left shortly after to shower, eat and get some sleep before coming back after calling out of work.

Stiles had spent the night sleeping on the couch while his dad and Derek made plans and kept watch over the house, hoping the Alpha wasn’t stupid or crazy enough to attack the house. He’d been woken a few hours ago by his dad being called into work, another person being found dead at the school.

After that, Stiles couldn’t go back to sleep and so now he’s just staring at his breakfast, waiting for something to happen. The ‘something’ is Scott coming slowly down the stairs, looking a little unsure about himself but alive and whole.

Stiles jerks up, dropping his spoon into the bowl. “Dude, you’re up,” he says aloud.

“I, yeah, I am,” Scott says with a grin, coming forward to hug Stiles, taking in his uninjured state. He punches Stiles in the arm lightly, “Dude, why did you never tell me your dad is a badass werewolf?” he accuses.

“Ow man,” Stiles grumbles, stepping back. “It’s not something I can just blab about. _Oh by the way Scott, my dad’s a werewolf, but don’t tell anyone._ And would you have believed me?” Stiles asks with a huff, sitting back down as Scott goes to rummage through the fridge.

“Well, maybe not at first,” he concedes, pulling the milk out and grabbing his own bowl of cereal. “But I would have eventually. You’re my bro, I’d believe you.”

They’re silent for a moment, Scott taking a few bites before Stiles touches his arm. Scott looks at him, “Thanks, for…you know. That would have been me if you hadn’t…” Scott gives him a knowing look.

Sitting back, he pulls Stiles in for a hug. “You’re my brother, Stiles. I know you’d do the same for me,” he says with ease.

They pull apart and ignore the wetness in each other’s eyes. They finish their breakfast in silence but content to just be.

Derek comes into the kitchen just as they’re finishing. “You mom’s coming, I can hear her car,” he informs the teen, who nods.

A few minutes later, they hear her car pull into the driveway. “Dude, when will I be able to hear that good?” Scott asks quickly.

Derek shrugs, “I’m not sure.”

“How come? Aren’t you a werewolf?” Scott asks curiously.

“Dude,” Stiles says with an exasperated sigh. “He was born a werewolf. Big difference from being bitten.”

“Oh, sorry,” Scott says, looking sheepish.

“It’s fine. The Sheriff will be able to tell you better about turning and what to expect,” Derek concedes.

The door opens and Melissa walks in, looking a little more put together and out of her scrubs. “Scott,” she says with a smile, walking over to give her son a hug. “You look better.”

“I feel better. I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers to her.

“Well, from what Mark has told me, you’re a lot more durable now. Plus, your asthma should be gone,” she says with a grin.

“What, really?” he asks, looking at Derek.

“It’s true. You won’t need your inhaler anymore,” Derek says with a nod.

“I could go for Lacrosse,” he says excitedly, “Maybe even make first line.”

“Dude, let’s worry about the crazy Alpha killing people and the werewolf hunters roaming around town before we start making plans for the Lacrosse season,” Stiles cautions worriedly, afraid his friend isn’t taking his new supernatural change seriously.

“Oh, yeah, I was thinking more, next year honestly,” Scott says with a wince.

Melissa laughs, “We can work on that front when we get there. Now, I believe you two have homework to complete. We might have called you out of school today due to what happened last night, but that doesn’t exempt you from doing your work. Here, I picked up your work from the office.”

They both groan but accept the offered papers from her and trudge upstairs to get to work. Derek just quietly snorts from his spot on the sofa where he’s started reading a book. “Now, Mr. Hale, I would like to have a conversation with you,” she says with a look in her eyes and Derek drops his book, looking panicked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be kind,” she says with a laugh and takes a seat near him.

~*~

“He’s killed a third victim,” Mark announces as he steps into the house. Melissa is busy cooking something that smells spicy, Scott and Stiles have books and papers spread on the table and Derek is seated on the couch reading. They all look at him when he enters.

“Who?” Stiles asks quietly.

“One of the janitors at the school. It’s why he was there. I think he might have scented Derek on you or your car Stiles and decided to target you,” Mark says with a sigh. “At least, that’s my theory.”

“So I have a target on me now?” Stiles asks, looking scared.

“Not any more. I don’t think he was aware I was turned or he might have gone after me instead of killing Laura. I’m a wrench in whatever plans he has. I think he’s going to be a lot more cautious about attacking now that he knows I’m here. Plus with Derek, Deaton and now Scott, I’m stronger than he is,” Mark says with confidence.

“You’re also willing to use weapons,” Derek speaks up. “Most Alphas don’t usually use a gun in a fight.”

“True, not that is did much,” Mark says with a sigh, sitting down on the sofa.

“Um, we actually have a third problem now,” Stiles speaks up and points to the calendar with the full moon circled. He had done that mainly for himself but to also remind his dad about it too. “Scott’s first moon isn’t going to be easy.”

“We’ll be fine,” Mark says with a shrug. “Do you have enough mountain ash to seal the basement?” he asks.

Stiles shakes his head, “Not enough for the whole basement but maybe a large circle if I stock up with Deaton later.”

“Mountain ash?” Scott asks.

“It’s actually a type of rowan wood, supposed to have protective properties. Werewolves and other shifters can’t touch it or cross over it. When it’s powdered, I can lay a line and keep you from getting out while you work on control,” Stiles explains.

“Dude, that’s cool,” Scott says, sitting up. “Wait, Deaton is in on this?” he asks, recalling his boss.

“Yeah, he’s a druid and was the Hale Pack emissary before the fire. He helped me and my dad when he was first bitten,” Stiles tells him.

“Man, does everyone I know, know about werewolves?” Scott asks with a hard look. “Mom, are you sure you didn’t know before yesterday?”

“Yes, Scott, I kept this dark secret from you just to keep you in the dark. No, I didn’t know,” Melissa says with a huff at her son.

“Alright, alright,” Scott says with a grin. “What should I expect?” he asks, looking to the other two werewolves in the room.

Derek shrugs, “It’s hard to say. Everyone experiences it differently. What you need to know is what to do to gain control.”

“Deaton explained it finding my anchor. Something that holds me to my human self. Keeps me from becoming a mindless animal controlled by instinct,” Mark explains softly.

“What is yours?” Scott asks.

“Stiles,” Mark explains, looking at his son. “He is my reason to stay sane and to come home at night.” Stiles looks a little misty eyed at that and rubs his eyes with a cough.

They look at Derek. “Anger,” he says with another shrug.

“That can’t be healthy,” Melissa speaks up.

“Probably not, but it’s kept me going since the fire,” Derek says with an annoyed look, walking out of the room before anyone can comment further.

“Let him be Melissa. He’s been through a lot in the last few years,” Mark says softly, touching her arm.

“Fine, I’ll keep my nose out of it,” she says with a sigh.

“I’ll text Deaton and then head over there when he says I should,” Stiles says, already pulling out his phone to do just that.

“When you go, take Derek. No one goes alone right now,” Mark orders and he nods, assuming Derek is agreeing from the other room.

“Scott, for the moment, you won’t be going anywhere, not even school, until you have control. I want you to think about what you feel should be your anchor,” Mark says, standing in front of his new beta.

“What about Allison?” Scott asks, looking hopeful.

“Dude, she’s an Argent,” Stiles hisses. Scott looks confused at his words. “As in _The_ Argents, the werewolf hunting family. Were you not listening when we talked about them?”

“But Allison’s not a hunter,” Scott says with a mulish look.

“That we know of. But what about her parents? Her Aunt? You know, the one that just tried to kill Derek unprovoked a few days ago? The ones that would try to kill you if they knew,” Stiles hisses, hands flailing to get his point across.

“But-,” Scott starts.

“Scott, man, they killed Derek’s family, his pack,” Stiles whispers. Scott pales, looking in the direction the beta had gone. “Adults, children, _humans_ , all in that house,” Stiles says, feeling a little guilty about using Derek’s tragedy as a lesson.

“So I can’t date her?” he asks, looking lost.

“Ugh, I swear…” Stiles starts.

“Stiles,” Mark says softly and Stiles takes a breath to calm down.

“We can’t tell you who you can date, Scott,” Mark explains to the teen.

“I beg to differ,” Melissa speaks up with a frown.

“Not helping,” Mark retorts. “If that is your choice, then fine, but you need to go in with all the facts. However, you will stay away from her until you have control. Your emotions will be all over the place and I don’t want you or her getting hurt if you lose control.”

Scot nods. “As to your anchor, while love is a good emotion to draw from, I suggest a love stronger than something so new,” Mark advises.

“Like, Mom?” he asks, looking at his mother with a smile.

“That would work. I want you to focus on that and think about it, what it means to have Melissa’s love. Hopefully, that will be enough,” Mark says with a smile.

Stiles’ phone chimes and when he looks, it’s a message from Deaton saying he can come anytime for the mountain ash. “That’s my cue,” Stiles says with a wave to Melissa, a fist ump to Scott and a quick hug to his dad before he heads to the front door. Derek’s already waiting for him. “Lead on McDuff,” he says with a grin and Derek rolls his eyes before opening the door.

~*~

“Stiles, Derek, glad you could make it,” Deaton says with a small smile as they enter the clinic. The front is empty, the sign having been turned to closed.

“You got the stuff?’ Stiles says with as straight a face as possible.

“This is not a drug deal Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton deadpans, not looking impressed.

Stiles laughs, “Dude, your face.”

“Shall we?” Deaton asks, turning to Derek.

“Alright, I’m serious now,” Stiles says hurriedly, rushing to catch up with them as they start to head into the back.

“I heard about what happened,” Deaton says quietly, opening the door to his office and motioning them inside.

“Which part? The Alpha attacking us, Scott having to be turned to save his life, the fact that there’s another dead body and no clue why this Alpha is killing them? You really need to be more specific,” Stiles rants, counting on his fingers everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours.

“That is a lot to take in. How are you holding up?” He asks. He looks at Derek at this.

“I just want to avenge Laura,” Derek mutters.

“Do you plan to kill the Alpha yourself, take back what he stole?” Deaton asks, face placid and probing.

“I…I don’t know,” Derek admits. “I was never supposed to be the Alpha. That was Laura. Now…,” he doesn’t continue.

“Then perhaps this is something you should think about,” Deaton advises softly before slipping around his desk and pulling out a large sealed jug. “This should cover your needs, I should hope. If you need more, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s not hard to obtain.”

“Thank you, Deaton,” Stiles says softly, still eyeing Derek where the man seems to have withdrawn into himself.

“You’re welcome. Now, stay safe and let me know how everything goes,” Deaton answers, leading the two out of his clinic and locking the door behind them. The drive back is silent, neither willing to break it.

~*~

The morning after the full moon is a silent one as most of them are still sleeping, having been up all night with Scott. Stiles is awake, mind tumbling over the problem of the Alpha and those he killed. The pieces are there, he knows they are. He just need to look at it right.

His dad walks in to find him still laying on the floor, staring at the wall. “Stiles, this is certainly new,” he says with a yawn, covering it with one hand while holding a steaming mug of coffee in the other.

“I was hoping a different angle of looking at it might reveal something, but all it did was make my back hurt,” Stiles grumbles, sitting up and glaring at the board.

“I know what you mean. We’re missing something. Something key to figuring out who killed her,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee.

His father grabs his shoulder and leads him from the room. Derek is just coming down the stairs, looking more awake then Stiles feels. He sits at the table, his mind floating, just letting his thoughts tumble around when a thought springs into focus.

He turns to look at Derek, eyes wide. “What?” Derek asks, frowning at him.

“How sure are you Kate did it?” he asks quickly.

“Pretty fucking sure, Stiles,” Derek grits out, hands clenching.

“Absolutely, without a doubt it was _just_ her?” Stiles asks, ignoring Derek’s anger.

“What are you getting at Stiles?” Mark asks, eyeing his son.

“The insurance report, you showed it to me. It claimed faulty wiring caused the fire. But if Kate started it, unless she had been in the house full of werewolves that could hear her heartbeat, and smell her scent, it couldn’t have been wiring. She had to have either some sort of accelerant that would burn without leaving a trace or find some way to make it look like faulty wiring,” Stiles breaths out.

“You think she caused the fire but had help covering it up?” Mark asks softly, his own thoughts ticking into motion, picking up on his son’s train of thought. “The murders?”

“I mean, it’s possible. There’s no way she could have covered that up without someone on the inside to cover it up for her,” Stiles says with a shrug.

Derek looks shocked, eyes wide. “I…it’s possible,” he admits, not sure how to take this new train of thought.

“I’ll look into this. You and Scott stay here with Derek. Melissa has work so she’ll be leaving soon. Stay out of trouble,” he warns before pressing a kiss into Stiles’ hair, clapping Derek on the shoulder and walks upstairs to get ready for work.

Stiles decides to leave Derek to his thoughts and heads upstairs to change as well. He finds Scott still sprawled across his bed, out cold and snoring softly. Snorting, he grabs some clothes and heads off to take a shower.

~*~

Stiles is thankful the full moon fell on a Friday night. It gives Scott a couple of days to work on keeping his cool. He’d been able to stay in control, mostly, but there were a few slip ups. Derek said it was common in teens who were bitten or born a werewolf. Something about hormones and fluctuating temperaments.

Still, he plans to spend the weekend finishing his homework and vegging out playing video games with Scott. Scott and Allison have been texting since after the attack, Scott hedging, telling her he’s sick and needs to stay away so he doesn’t get her sick like he did Stiles. So far, she’s buying it.

He actually manages to keep his mind occupied on school work most of the morning, finishing it up around lunch, Scott slowly comes to with loud grumbles from his stomach. “Dude, feed that beast,” Stiles jokes as his stomach grumbles again.

Scott kicks him for the beast joke but gets up and Stiles follows, planning to grab a sandwich for lunch. Derek is still on the sofa, reading a new book. “Dude, is all you do is read?” Stiles asks, popping a chip into his mouth.

“I like it, so what,” Derek grumbles and turns back to his book, ignoring their chatter as they talk about the upcoming school dance. Scott wants to ask Allison but he’s not sure if he should, after being turned.

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to consul his mopey friend. When his phone beeps a new text, Stiles quickly latches onto the distraction and pulls his phone from his pocket, quickly unlocking it and glancing at the text.

_Come out and play._

The number is blocked. Stiles heart lurches and Derek’s beside him, having heard his heart beat faster. “What?” he asks, looking for some threat.

Stiles holds up his phone with a shaking hand. Derek growls, seeing the text. “How did he get my number?” Stiles asks, setting the phone down and pushing it away.

“I don’t know,” Derek says, looking lost on how to fix this.

“Why don’t we track it?” Scott asks.

“What?” Derek says, looking constipated, but that’s normal in Stiles’ eyes.

“You mean, find where he sent the text?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah, you see it on the TV shows all the time. Dude, Danny knows all about computer stuff, maybe he can do it?” Scott says, getting excited.

“I don’t want to get Danny caught up in this, Scott,” Stiles says softly, frowning.

“Do we know anyone else who can trace the text?” Derek asks slowly.

“Yeah, I know one person,” Stiles says with a smile.

~*~

Stiles brings Scott with him, leaving Derek on the side of the road follow them through the trees as they pull up to the Sheriff’s station. His dad’s currently looking into leads about those who might have covered up the Hale Fire. He’d been against it at first, not liking using county funds to trace the text but had eventually relented when Stiles has assured him they wouldn’t make a habit of this.

Malena, the front secretary, greets them with a smile and a wave. “You’re dad’s not here,” she warns them.

“I know. I need to talk with Sasha about something away from prying Sheriff eyes,” Stiles says with a conspiratorial whisper. She smiles knowingly, winks and waves them through.

Sasha, when she sees him coming, get a suspicious look in her eye. “What is that for?” Stiles asks accusingly.

“You only come to me when you need something your dad doesn’t approve of,” she says knowingly.

“Look, this isn’t me up to something, scout’s honor,” Stiles says with a hand raised.

She sighs, “Fine, what can I do?”

Stiles takes the seat beside her while Scott wanders over to the chairs by his dad’s office, pulling out his phone, waiting for them to finish. “Look I didn’t want my dad to know because he’ll get all protective Sheriff on me. Some dude’s been leaving strange comments on my Facebook. At first, it wasn’t much, but it kept happening. I deleted them, then blocked the dude. Someone sent me this text yesterday and I was hoping, since you’re so good with computers, you could help me figure out where it came from,” Stiles explains.

“Stiles, you should tell you dad,” she hisses.

“I know but I don’t want to rely on him to always save me. If I can get the proof, then I’ll take it to him. Thus, where you come in,” Stiles says with a grin.

She gives a low curse before nodding. “If your dad finds out, I’m blaming it all on you,” she warns.

“Thanks Sasha,” he says, handing her the phone.

The next ten minutes are tense as she fiddles with it, connecting it to her computer and pulling up programs the Stiles’ has only seen in passing from previous times spent at the station. Finally, there’s a ping.

“Huh,” she says softly.

“What?” Stiles asks quickly.

“This says it was sent not by a phone, but from a computer at the Beacon Hills Hospital,” she says with a frown.

“That’s can’t be right,” Stiles demands.

“Look, that is where the text came from. Just, make sure you tell your dad, alright?’ she asks.

Stiles sighs and nods, hugging her, “Thanks Sasha. I owe you one,” he says quickly, pulling away.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she warns with a grin as Stiles leaves, dragging Scott with him.

The pull over halfway home, and Derek slides into the back of the jeep, laying low. “Well?” he asks.

“She said it was sent from a computer at Beacon Hills Hospital,” Stiles answers, knuckles white where he’s gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Dude, my mom’s there,” Scott breaths out.

“Yes, but we can’t just go barging in there. There’s a lot of people there during the day. If we go at night, maybe she can help us access the hospital’s cameras and see who sent the text. We can see what the Alpha looks like when not furry and ‘roid raging,” Stiles explains.

“We’re telling your dad,” Derek tells him.

“Dude, I’m not stupid. We’ll need him if shit goes down,” Stiles says, looking in the mirror back at the beta.

~*~

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks Scott, eyeing the teen as they head for the hospital. Melissa had agreed to wait for them when they told her what they had found.

“I just…the Alpha might have been at the hospital and near my mom. He saw her, that night and he could have recognized her while there. How are you not coming out of your skin?” Scott asks, look at Stiles as he drives.

Stiles glances behind, seeing Derek’s Camaro following close behind. “My dad’s always been in danger. I guess I’ve just learned to live with it and make sure I tell him I love him constantly,” Stiles admits, his own fears of his dead dying in the line of duty creeping to the forefront of his mind.

“It sucks,” Scott says softly.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Stiles agrees.

~*~

The parking lot is mostly empty this late at night. With visiting hours over, only the doctors and nurses are there and the patients coming into the ER. Melissa’s waiting for them by the sliding door, chewing a finger nail.

“Follow me and try not to make a scene,” she says, leading them inside. No one bates an eye at seeing Scott or Stiles, they’ve both been here with her before. The do give glances at Derek though, the man brooding and decked out in his jeans and leather jacket. Stiles wants to ask if he could look any less like a serial killer but holds his tongue.

Melissa leads them to a small room with some monitors. “Miles owed me a favor and we have exactly 15 minutes before he gets back from his cigarette break. When was the text sent?” she asks, siting in the chair and pulling up the camera feeds.

“Today, at 12:48,” Stiles says, glancing at the text. “Sasha said it was sent from a computer, not a phone.”

“Well that narrows down our cameras. Only so many look at our computer stations,” she says, typing in the time and date and pulling up different cameras onto the many screens.

They watch the feed silently as they play from 12:47 to 12:49 on loop. “Anything?” she asks from her own screens watching them.

“Was the Alpha male or female? I was too terrified of dying to check,” Stiles asks quickly.

“Male,” Derek says slowly, recalling the fight.

“Alright, look for male figures by the computers,” she says.

A few more minutes go by. “Hang on,” Stiles says quickly. “Can you go back a few minutes on this camera and go a few minutes further?’ he asks, pointing at a camera where a woman is staring at the screen of a computer.

She does, pulling it up and they watch silently as the video plays. The woman approaches the computer, pulling something up. She types for a second and then closes what she’s working on. She looks up and the back of someone comes partially into camera view. The angle is bad and the face is only seen in a bad profile but it’s the flare of red that has Melissa pausing the video.

“That’s…Jennifer…Jennifer Menlo,” Melissa says, recalling the woman’s name.

“Where does she work?” Stiles asks, looking at the woman.

“The long term care ward,” she says slowly.

Stiles mind screeches to a halt, puzzle pieces being thrown together. “No,” he says, looking at Derek. “It can’t be…can it?’ he asks the beta.

Derek looks confused then his eyes go wide, understanding showing as he turns and runs from the room. Stiles and Scott give chase, Melissa behind them. “Hang on, who is it?’ she asks.

“Derek’s uncle has been in the long term care ward since the fire,” Stiles explains, cursing as Derek rushes up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. They reach the next floor just in time to see Derek turn the corner of the hallway, faster than the humans and newly turned beta.

“Derek!” Stiles yells.

They round the corner and come to a stop, Derek a few feet in front of them. Across the open area of the nurse’s station, a man lounges against the wall, looking at his nails in boredom. “Took you long enough, dear nephew,” the man drawls, looking up at him with red eyes.

“You…you killed Laura. Why?’ he asks, voice broken and ragged.

“Your sister put me in here and left. Left a pack member behind. What Alpha would do that, hm?” Peter Hale asks, pushing away from the wall.

“She was scared and there were hunters in town. The Argents were still there. We were alone and you weren’t healing,” Derek reasons.

“She ran away and hid while our pack’s murders remained alive and at large. She figured it out, did you know,” Peter drawls. “Figured each person responsible for our destruction. Right down to the one who told Kate how to make a fire hot enough to burn us faster,” he growls out.

“She came here, told me everything. She was planning on taking the evidence to the police. I knew I couldn’t let that happen. They would either run and hide or slip away on technicalities. They deserved death. But I needed power to take down the Argent bitch and her family. Laura was a means to an end. Though if I had known what the dear Sheriff of Beacon Hills had been hiding, I would have acted so much sooner.”

“So what, you’re going to kill us too?” Stiles asks, trying to subtly reach for his phone to hit the speed dial for his dad.

“I wouldn’t if I were you Mr. Stilinski. Your father isn’t here to protect you this time. Though I see he turned you,” he says with a smirk as Stiles and Scott flinch.

“Peter, don’t,” Derek grits out.

“Or what? Are you going to stop me dear nephew? You who barely cling to your humanity and hide away from the pain. They don’t know, do they? About your involvement in all this? Do they?” he growls out. Derek flinches back.

“How about a deal?” Peter offers. “You stay and help me and I let them go.”

“Derek don’t,” Stiles hisses, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Derek jerks away before he can. “Fine, deal.”

“Derek,” Stiles says softly.

“Go, get out of here,” Derek growls out.

“Stiles, come on,” Scott hisses, grabbing Stiles’ arm and pulling the teen back down the hall. Melissa grabs his other arm and they force him to leave. Stiles glances back once before they’re around the corner and the two disappear from sight.

~*~

Stiles is numb and staring at the wall when his father comes home, eyes blazing red and demanding to know what happened. Melissa slowly explains about what they had found and the encounter in the hospital. Stiles doesn’t move when a hand is on his shoulder.

“Stiles?” Mark asks softly.

“How could he just do that?” Stiles asks, looking confused. “He just…gave in, like he was powerless.”

“Family can make us act differently than we normally would,” he reasons.

“But he killed Laura!” Stiles shouts, standing up and starting to pace. “How could he help the man that killed his sister? Even if he is family.”

“He was protecting you,” Melissa speaks up from the doorway. “Stiles, it was two humans and Scott who’s only just been turned. He would have killed us. Derek knew this and offered himself to let us get away.”

Stiles growls in frustration, still pacing. “He said he was killing those involved in the fire. Has there been any more strange deaths, dad?’ he asks.

Mark nods, “Last night, a man was found with his head bashed in by a large rock. No human could have picked it up and thrown it, so they’re not sure how it happened. Another seemed to have fallen into a trash fire and burned to death. They think he was drunk, but until the lab tests come back, I’m on the boat that Peter killed them.”

“Were any of them scientist?” he asks.

“Hmm, no, none. They were mainly low rung thugs or people with shady pasts. The bus driver was the insurance investigator who ruled the fire an accident. They’re investigating him now, but they think this wasn’t the first time he lied to cover something up,” Mark answers, letting his son pace.

“He said something about Kate getting help from someone to make a way to create a hotter fire,” Stiles says, frowning.

“The Fire Marshall’s report did say it had burned far hotter than a normal house fire should have. They thought there had been something in the house that made it burn that way,” Mark says slowly, thinking over the threads of thought. “Who would know enough about chemicals to know how to make something like that?” he asks.

“The only person I know who understands chemicals is our chemistry teacher, Mr. Harris,” Scott speaks up from behind his mom.

~*~

Mark pulls his car into the school parking lot. There’s only one car there currently, it’s occupant leaned against the side, watching him. Taking a breath, he gets out and walks closer. “Adrian Harris,” he asks, stepping closer to see the man Stiles has spent so long complaining about.

“Sheriff,” he says with a nod, but he seems off, eyes flickering around like he’s looking for something.

“Is something the matter?” he asks, listening but hearing nothing close.

“I…it’s nothing,” he lies.

“If you talk, maybe I can help,” Mark encourages.

“You said you needed to ask me some questions relating to my field of study,” he says, changing the subject.

“Yes. Recent evidence has come to light that shows that the Hale House Fire was arson and not an accident. We think someone used an accelerant to make it burn far hotter than it would have and hoped you might be able to point us in the right direction,” Mark explains.

He knows he’s got him when he hears the man’s heart stutter, his eyes widening a fraction. “Oh god,” he whispers.

“What is it?” Mark asks quickly.

“Look, I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he says, shaking his head.

“Mr. Harris, what are you talking about?” Mark asks.

“There was a woman, blonde, blue eyes, I think. I was drunk, at the bar. She came up to me. Started to flirt, said she knew about my studies, that she loved scientists. I was flattered and really drunk. She led me on and I explained how easy it was to make a chemical that would be nearly untraceable and would make a fire extremely hot,” he says, hyperventilating.

“Mr. Harris, can you describe this woman?” he asks.

“No, not really. I…I wasn’t really looking at her face,” he says, looking frantic. “But I can draw the necklace she wore. It was silver…and looked really old,” he offers, reaching into his packet to pull out a piece of paper and a pen, drawing on his hood.

“If I can get the evidence I need, will you give your testimony to the court about what you said and saw?” he asks, watching the man’s frantic sketching.

“He’ll kill me,” Harris moans, finishing and handing the paper over.

“Who?” Mark asks.

“The man who came by my home. He knew…knew about what I’d done. Asked if I’d seen the woman or her necklace recently. I said I hadn’t, couldn’t even remember her face. He growled, shoved me into the wall and left,” he describes.

“What did he look like?” Mark asks.

“Big, muscled. He was wearing a leather jacket, had short black hair, stubble on his jaw,” he’s babbling now.

“Thank you. I’ll put word out to my officers to keep an eye out for this man. I suggest you go and stay home for now and I’ll call you if we have more information,” Mark assures. Harris nods before rushing back to his car and drives off in a rush to get home.

He sighs, running a hand down his face before glancing at the rough sketch, the rough shape of a wolf on it. “Derek, what are you doing?” he asks softly to the air.

~*~

Derek comes to slowly, his whole body aching. He tries to shift but can’t, his arms bound. He looks around and blanches, recognizing the soot covered walls of the basement of his house. Glancing down, he sees wires trailing from his side to a battery, the reason for his pain. The last thing he remembers was running through the preserve heading back to Peter and then blinding pain and darkness.

He hears tutting from across the room and looks into the shadows. He sees the blonde hair first. “Oh Derek, we really have to stop meeting this way,” Kate Argent says with a wide smirk, stepping closer.

“Kate,” he grits out and has to clench his teeth as his muscles convulse from the electricity.

“No need to rehash what we had, Derek. It’s long been over. I need you for a new project,” she says as her phone chimes an incoming text. “Ah, right on time,” she says with a wink before leaving him and shutting the light off as she heads up the barely stable stairs.

He hears a voice, but his hearing is going in and out and he can’t make out words. He looks to the table where his jacket, wallet and phone rest. But it’s not his phone, it’s Scott’s. He’d grabbed it earlier when the teen had dropped it getting out of the jeep.

He’d not been able to give it back and now it’s his only hope of them finding him. The voices are coming closer. He hears Kate speaking. “Allison, you’ve been wondering what the family business is. Well, I think it’s time I showed you,” she says, escorting the teen down the stairs in the darkness.

“Kate, what’s going on? This is a bad jokes,” Allison says softly.

“This isn’t a joke, Allison. You see our family are hunters. We hunt a very specific prey and we’re good at it,” Kate says, turning the light on and revealing Derek’s strung up form. Allison gasps, taking in his form stuck in the beta shift, backing away. He knows his eyes are glowing blue. “This is what we hunt,” Kate whispers.

“What…what is he?” Allison asks, eyes wide in fear.

“A werewolf,” she says with a smirk before smacking a rod against him, electricity far stronger than that running though the wires courses though his body and he howls in pain.

~*~

“Fuck,” Stiles exclaims as his dad explains what he learned from Harris.

“Yeah, and Derek knows so Peter knows,” Scott says.

“But he didn’t kill Harris,” Stiles says, looking confused.

“Technically, Harris didn’t cause the fire. He just gave them some information. I believe the bus driver helped cover it up and the others helped set it all up. The two we found recently were identified. They were known thugs for hire with a long list of suspected crimes. They were always arrested but managed to get out of being convicted by bad evidence gathering or alibis given by other known criminals,” Mark says from his spot by his desk, looking through a file.

“So that just leaves Kate, then,” Melissa speaks up.

“I don’t think he’s going after just Kate,” Stiles says, making the other look at him. “I think he wants more. He said he wanted to ‘take down Kate and her whole family.’ He’s probably planning to go after the easiest prey first.”

“Allison,” Scott breathes out, face worried.

“She either doesn’t know about the supernatural or has only recently been made aware of it,” Stiles guesses.

“So either way, she’s in trouble,” Mark adds.

“He won’t go after her at school or home, not during the day at least,” Stiles says, thinking out loud.

“I’ll text her, warn her,” Scott says.

“Dude, if she doesn’t know, she won’t believe you and if she does, she won’t trust you,” Stiles says, maybe a little too harshly by the looks his dad and Melissa give him.

“I’ve still got to try,” Scott says with a glare. He pats his pants down, looking for his phone. “Where’s my phone?” he asks.

“Maybe you left it upstairs or in the jeep,” Melissa offers and Scott nods, rushing from the room to find his phone.

Stiles pulls his out and sees a notification from his calendar. When he opens it, he freezes. “The dance..” he whispers.

“What?” Mark asks.

“The winter formal is in two days. Everyone will be there. I remember Lydia and Allison talking about how they were going to go. That’s when he’ll go after her,” Stiles says, standing up.

“I can’t find it anywhere. I must have dropped it,” Scott says, coming in and looking at Stiles. “What?” he asks.

“We need to go to the winter formal. He’s going to try and get Allison then,” Stiles says.

~*~

“You know the plan?” his dad asks as Stiles finishes tying his tie and steps back from the mirror.

“Keep her inside and away from dark corners. Yep,” Stiles says.

“Stiles, this is serious,” Mark says with a growl.

“I know this is dad and I’m taking it serious. But I can only do so much serious before I crack,” Stiles says, stepping back. “How do I look?” he asks.

“Handsome, just like your old man,” he says with a grin.

“Think I might be able to swing a dance with Lydia?” he asks as a joke. Mark just rolls his eyes and pulls him into a hug.

Pulling away, he straightens the tie. “I’ve got the full force out tonight patrolling. The mayor’s breathing down my neck about these murders. I won’t be far from you, I promise. Call if you see anything.”

“I promise, dad. You stay safe. I’m sure the hunters are out in full force too,” Stiles reminds him.

“Deal,” he says and steps aside to let his son leave the room.

Scott’s waiting with Melissa downstairs. “Well, you both are certainly handsome tonight,” she says with a smile. “If this wasn’t so serious, I’d be taking pictures,” she says with a small laugh.

“Everything ready?” Mark asks.

“Deaton is on standby near the school just in case and they accepted my offer to chaperone in case of a medical emergency so I’m cleared to attend,” she assures. “You boys ready?” she asks and they nod.

“Let’s hope luck is on our side tonight,” she says, following them out of the house to ride with them to the dance.

~*~

The music is loud and thrumming through the crowd of teenagers. Stiles drifts through, looking for their target. Scott perks up, “There she is with Lydia, Jackson and Danny.” Stiles turns and sees them all gathered.

“Allison,” Scott calls, rushing through the crowd.

The girl beams at Scott, giving him a kiss as he approaches. “Great, the loser squad is here,” Jackson grumbles as Stiles approaches.

“How nice to see you to, Jackson. I hear you cried like a little girl at the movie store,” Stiles snips back.

“Stilinski, you’re lucky I don’t pummel you face in,” Jackson hisses, Danny keeping him held back.

“Dude, you had it coming,” Danny whispers to the jock.

“Whatever, loser,” Jackson says, shrugging his friend off.

“Hey Danny,” Stiles says and the other boy nods in greeting.

“Lydia, as stunning as ever,” Stiles says with a small applaud.

“Don’t even think about it Stilinski,” Jackson growls.

“I don’t need you to defend me, Jackson. And at least he appreciates me,” Lydia snaps at her boyfriend. Jackson looks hurt and then glares at her and turns away.

“I would like to dance,” Lydia says with a frosty look at Jackson. “Stiles, dance with me.”

“What?” he asks, not expecting the turn of events.

“Either dance with me or I’ll ask someone else,” she says with a glare.

“Alright, I’ll dance,” he says, taking her offered arm and leading her to the floor. He gives Scott a nod when they arrive by him and Allison who are dancing.

The night drags on, with the tension between Jackson and Lydia getting higher and higher, the two bickering constantly. Stiles sidles up to Allison when the other two aren’t looking. “What happened?” he asks quietly.

“I’m not sure myself. I think they had a fight yesterday,” she says back, looking distracted.

“Fine, then why don’t I just leave,” Lydia yells, stomping away towards one of the exits from the gym.

“Go then!” Jackson yells, heading in the opposite direction.

Stiles looks between the two and sighs. He leans towards Scott. “I’m going to check on Lydia. You good to keep watch?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Scott says with a grin, offering his arm to Allison for another dance.

~*~

Outside is cold and dark, only the lights near the gym turned on, leaving half the field dark. Stiles shivers in his jacket and glances around to see where Lydia stormed off to. Glancing around, he sees something in the partial shadow of the field.

An alarm is ringing in his head as he steps closer, the shape forming the slumped form of Lydia. “Lydia!” he cries out, rushing over to her. There’s blood, a bite on her side and he’s panicking. “Oh god, what?”

“So glad you could join us, Mr. Stilinski,” a voice calls from behind him and he turns to see Peter strolling closer from the shadows.

“Why?’ he asks.

“Oh, I was going to go after the Argent girl, but my plans have changed. That bitch Kate has Derek and I need you to find him,” he says easily.

“Why should I help you?” Stiles asks quickly.

“Two reason: one, you’ll be saving Derek from being tortured and killed by hunters and two, if you don’t, I will kill this girl right here, right now in front of you in the most gruesome way I can think of,” he says with a smirk, eyes glowing red.

Stiles hesitates, heart hammering, hoping his dad will suddenly appear in front of him. But he’s not, Stiles knows that. “Fine, you leave her out of this and I’ll help you find Derek,” Stiles says with a wince, slowly stepping away from Lydia’s slumped form.

“Good boy, now let’s go for a little car ride, shall we,” he says with a grin full of too many teeth.

~*~

“Scott, what’s wrong?” Allison asks softly.

“Stiles has been gone for a while,” he says, looking towards the door Stiles left through.

“Come on and just, stay close, please,” he says and she nods.

He rushes towards the door and out into the cold. It’s dark out but he can see the footsteps of the path Stiles took through the frost covered grass. They lead out onto the field, where he can see Lydia lying. “Shit,” he hisses and rushes out towards the girl, Allison right behind him.

“Lydia,” Allison calls out.

“What happened?” a voice yells and they turn to see Jackson staggering towards them. His jacket is open and Scott spies blood. “What happened?” he asks again.

“We found her like this. Stiles went to check on her but he’s missing and we found her here,” Allison says, pulling out her phone. “I’m calling the police.”

Scott pulls out his temporary phone, calling the Sheriff. “Scott, what’s happened?”

“He was here,” he says quickly. “He attacked Lydia and I think Jackson and now Stiles is missing.”

“What!” Mark yells and Scott cringes, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“I will be there in five minutes,” he says before hanging up.

Scott calls the second number on the phone. “Mom, come to the field, Lydia’s hurt,” he says before she can respond.

“On my way,” she says, hanging up.

“Scott, what’s going on?” Allison asks, eyes looking at him suspiciously.

“The guy who did this is the one who killed all those people around town,” he says, looking at her scared for his friend. “And he’s got Stiles.”

~*~

“You want me to what?” Stiles asks in the deserted parking garage, staring at Peter.

“You heard me. Track you friend’s phone,” Peter says with a shrug.

“Wait, Derek had it, didn’t he?” Stiles asks.

“Bingo, you’re smarter than you look. My dear nephew thought I didn’t notice it. He’s not the brightest one in our family but he has his moments,” Peter says with a shrug. “But, I can’t take out Kate without some help, thus, I need to rescue him.”

“Alright, um, hang on,” Stiles says, pulling the laptop Peter had set on the hood of his car and starts to type.

“Um…why did you say Derek was involved in what happened?” Stiles asks, glancing nervously at the Alpha as he waits for the web page to load up.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Peter sings softly.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Stiles snaps back.

“I don’t think this information will be very satisfying, dear boy. Tell me, how did Kate know enough about us to sneak up on our home and trap us inside? How did she know about our escape tunnels and when we would all be home?” Peter asks instead.

Stiles pales, putting the pieces together slowly. “She had someone on the inside,” he says softly.

“I did say my nephew wasn’t the brightest. His head was so easily turned at that age. He thought himself in love and loved by the woman who would kill him without blinking. He gave so much away without even knowing, all for a woman,” Peter growls out, eyes red.

The page loads and is demands a password. “I don’t know his password,” Stiles says, turning it towards Peter.

“I think you do Stiles. You should know from your father, you can’t lie to me,” Peter says, turning the computer back to face him. “Type it.”

Glaring, Stiles types: ALLISON.

“Really, not very original,” Peter says with a grin as the phone locator program shows the phone’s location in the middle of the Preserve.

“Can I go now?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know. Should I let you go?” he asks, stepping closer.

Stiles takes a step back. “What would your father do if I bit you, right now? How it would tear him up inside that I turned you and not him,” Peter drawls, stepping closer and pulling Stiles’ arm close to his mouth.

“No!” he yells, snatching his arm free, Peter letting him.

“You would make an amazing beta, I hope he knows that. Now, hand me your keys,” he says, opening his trunk and tossing the computer into it. Stiles pales as he sees the body of the woman, Jennifer, from the video footage. Stiles does as told.

“Can’t have you following too quickly,” he says and bends the key sharply.

“Good bye, Mr. Stilinski,” Peter says, dropping the keys to the ground and strolling to the car next to the jeep. Getting in, he mock salutes and drives off, leaving Stiles standing by his jeep.

~*~

“Stiles!” Melissa exclaims as the teen slips into the ER looking exhausted and shaken. She rushes over, pulling him into a quick hug before dragging him further into the hospital.

He sees Scott and Jackson standing in a waiting area, while Mr. and Mrs. Martin talk further away to a doctor. “How is she?” he asks.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but the doctors say she’ll be fine. She hasn’t woken up yet either,” Melissa tells him as Scott turns and sees him, running over to hug him.

“Dude, what happened?” he asks.

“I’m calling Mark,” Melissa says softly, stepping away and pulling out her phone.

“He was there, Scott. He…he needed to find Derek and Derek had your phone. He wanted me to track it for him,” he says in a subdued voice.

“Where is he going?” Scott asks.

“Your father will be here in a few minutes,” Melissa interrupts.

Jackson, nearby, finally stirs from his stupor. Seeing Stiles, he rushes over glaring, “What the hell was that thing?” he asks.

Stiles jerks back, surprised. “What?” he asks.

“Peter bit Lydia and Jackson,” Scott whispers.

“Shit,” he hisses just as the doors open and his dad comes rushing in.

“Stiles!” Stiles is pulled into a bone crushing hug and clings to his dad. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” he demands.

“No, I’m fine, really,” Stiles says shakily.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I think Derek got caught by Kate Argent. He wanted me to find him. He had Scott’s phone when he was caught and I used the phone tracker to find it,” Stiles says quickly.

“Where were they?” he asks, expression hard.

“It…it was on the preserve. I’m…I’m not sure, but I think it was near the old Hale house,” Stiles admit, remembering his glimpse of the map.

“I’m going,” he says, taking a step back.

“Not without me,” Stiles says quickly, grabbing his dad’s arm.

“I can’t have you in danger,” Mark argues.

“Neither can I!” Stiles exclaims. “And yet you want to go into a fight against another Alpha and hunters alone. Dad, that’s suicide. You need back up,” Stiles says fiercely.

“He’s right Mark. You need help,” Melissa says softly.

“I’m your beta. I may not know much yet but I have to try,” Scott says quickly, looking determined.

“Dad, we have to save Derek,” he says softly.

Mark growls lowly and sighs, “Fine. You can come, but you stay back. Don’t get involved unless I say.”

“If you’re going after this bastard, I want in!” Jackson growls, striding closer.

“Dude, you do not want in on this,” Stiles says hotly.

“He hurt Lydia, did…something to me. I know it, even if I don’t understand it. I need to do something and you’re my best bet,” Jackson says with a resolute look in his eyes.

“Fine, come,” Mark says and they all quickly leave the hospital.

~*~

Derek blinks open heavy eyes as the constant feel of electricity through his body suddenly stops. He sees red eyes in the darkness. “I will kill her,” Peter says, reaching up to slice through his bonds. Derek collapses to the floor, trembling and barely catching himself before face planting.

“Peter…how?” he asks, muscles shaking and he has to grit his teeth as another wave of tremors goes through his body.

“I had a little help tracking you,” he says with a shrug, turning away while Derek struggles to stand.

Derek takes a breath and smells Stiles, fear and anxiety clinging to his uncle. “Did you hurt him?” he asks, staggering to his feet.

“No, though I was sorely tempted to turn him. The boy would make a good addition to any pack he joined,” Peter says nonchalantly.

“Peter,” he grits out, a second lesser tremor running through his limb.

“Ready yourself, nephew. She will be here soon,” Peter says, ignoring Derek’s warning tone. Derek growls but steps forward, following his uncle up the stairs, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth to fight the still lingering tremors.

~*~

Stiles sticks close to Melissa and Scott as they creep through the trees. His father’s ahead, finding the path and keeping watch for anyone that might attack. Stiles remembers this path. He and Scott had come here a couple years ago to look at the burned down husk of the Hale House. It had been horrible to look at and he had left soon after.

Now, he can see it slowly coming into view through the trees. He jumps as his dad appears from the shadows ahead, eyes hard. “Stay here, watch my back. Shout if anyone tries to come from this way. Melissa, keep them safe.”

“What about me?” Scott asks.

“I can’t ask you…” Mark starts.

“You said this made me your pack and from how Stiles explained it, pack protects pack. I should be there,” Scott insists.

“Scott,” Melissa says softly.

“Mom, he saved me and I can return the favor by helping him fight if need be,” Scott says with determined look in his eyes.

“Fine, you stay out of any fight with Peter though. Do not kill him, do you understand?” Mark asks, eyes red for just a second.

“I…yeah, but it’s not like I want to kill someone anyways,” Scott says, ruining the seriousness of the moment.

Mark smiles, rustling Scott’s hair, “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Dad,” Stiles says from beside Jackson. “Stay safe.”

“I will,” Mark promises, pulling him in for one last hug before he and Scott start to slip away through the trees.

“Alright boys, Stiles, you head a little that way and Jackson the opposite direction. Stay in my sight and yell if anyone is headed towards where your dad is,” Melissa orders and they nod.

~*~

The clearing up ahead is empty but he can hear two faint heartbeats. He assumes it’s Peter and Derek and if he can hear them, they can hear him and Scott, more than likely. So he waits, knowing he needs to wait.

Scott kneels beside him, watching up ahead. He’d been shocked by the boy demanding to come. He’s taken to the idea of pack so quickly…but, they had been a pseudo family already, him and Melissa watching out for each other. Pack wasn’t much different. He wonders if Scott would have been so willing to embrace this if he had been bitten by Peter instead.

He’s drawn from his thoughts as footsteps head towards the house: two sets from different directions.

Mark looks to the right and can see the blonde woman he guesses is Kate Argent, having only seen her from a far or in a photo. She looks harder than the younger picture he has of her from her high school days.

To the left, he sees two figures appear and spies Chris Argent and Allison slipping through the trees. The man had come to the station looking to make a contract to sell weapons to the police. He had declined for the moment, saying this were a bit hectic with the murders and had asked him to come back later at a better time.

He waits, watching as Kate steps in the clearing first. She looks around, looking suspicious of the quiet. She jerks around when Chris and Allison step through the trees and stop, looking at her.

“Chris, what are you doing here?” she asks sweetly.

“I could say the same for you,” he bites out. “You showed her. After I specifically asked that she be left out. I didn’t want Allison hunting,” he yells out.

“Oh please, she would have found out eventually,” Kate says with a dismissive hand wave.

“That was not your choice to make,” he barks back.

“Too late now, little brother,” Kate says with a shrug, looking back at the house with a grin.

“What have you done?” he demands, seeing her glance.

“What our family does, Chris. I hunted,” she says with a grin.

“Not very well, I might add,” Peter drawls out, stepping onto the porch. The three jump back in surprise as Derek follows suit, glowering at the woman with enough hate to light her on fire if he could.

“What did you do?” Chris demands of her.

“What didn’t she do?” Peter asks with a shrug. “Attacked us unprovoked, tortured my dear nephew, in front of your dear daughter no less, burned my entire pack in our home with no cause, should I continue to list her grievances?” he asks, eyes blazing red.

“What?” Chris demands, looking at Kate.

“Oh, you mean you didn’t know? How she trapped us inside with mountain ash and burned us all alive? How only three of us managed to escape the inferno,” Peter drawls out, voice harsh and clipped with each word.

“Kate,” Chris says, shocked and looking at his sister. Allison’s eyes are wide, her face pale.

“I did what I had to. Prevented what would have eventually happened,” Kate hissed.

“You broke the Code. Killed innocent people in that home. For god’s sake, there where children in there, humans,” Chris yells.

“They were mongrels not people, Chris, get it right,” Kate snaps.

“You broke the Code, Kate,” Chris says, reaching for his gun.

“Don’t,” she says, pulling her own out. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you Chris. I’ve come here to finish what I started.”

“Stay here, Scott. Watch my back,” he whispers and steps out from behind his tree, making enough noise for the humans to hear. “Well now, Ms. Argent. That was a lovely confession I just heard,” Mark drawls, gun out and pointed at the woman.

“Sheriff?” Chris asks, looking at the man he thought was unaware of the supernatural.

“Now, you will put your gun down and turn around and put your hands behind your back,” he ignores the hunter, stepping closer.

“Really, Sheriff, one man against two werewolves and two hunters. Do you think you can survive that?” she asks with a grin, keeping her gun up.

“From the looks of things, you’re on your own. Those two werewolves want to rip you limb from limb and your brother doesn’t look too keen to see you leave here alive either. Looks I’m your only way to stay alive,” he says easily.

“No, I will not be denied,” Peter roars, charging forward. Kate turns and fires at the Alpha, rolling away from his lunge.

“Shit!” Mark hisses, rushing in as Derek and Chris do as well.

He tackles Derek away. “Stay down, son,” he yells, pressing him into the earth.

“Sheriff,” he hears Scott’s yell and ducks as Kate springs at him, knife just grazing his shoulder, cutting deep as she sails over him.

He feels the burn of poison as she lands with a smirk before her eyes go wide, seeing his eyes burn red. Ignoring his shoulder, he lunges forward bringing his gun up and she kicks his hand away, scrambling away.

Right into Peter’s path. He grabs her, clawed hand at her throat. “Peter,” Mark growls out, Chris eyeing the man, seeing what he is, his eyes still red in pain and anger.

“She reaps what she sows,” Peter says with a laugh and slashes sideways, slitting her throat.

“Kate!” Chris yells, shooting at Peter, who ducks one but takes the other in the chest.

Derek launches at Peter from the side, tackling the man, slashing into his form. Peter just laughs, going down without a fight as Derek claws at him. Mark rushes forward, grabbing the beta’s arm as he rears back to claw at the unresisting Alpha.

“Do it, dear nephew. You killed them, now kill me. Make it official,” Peter spits out, blood coating his teeth.

“Derek,” Mark says softly. “Is this what you want?”

Derek looks at him, eyes wild with rage and grief. “He killed Laura,” he growls.

“And it won’t bring her back. But it will make you a killer like him and an Alpha. Is this the path you want to take?” Mark asks softly.

Derek hesitates, looking down at the man that was once his family. “He’s already dying, Derek,” he says, looking where the wolfsbane is starting to spreading from the bullet hole in his chest.

He sags, falling back and away from Peter. “You’re a coward,” Peter hisses, glaring as his breathing starts to gurgle as fluid builds in his lungs.

“Maybe, but I won’t follow your path,” Derek says softly, eyes wet and full of grief.

Mark steps forward, “I would love to see you suffer for what you’ve done, but I won’t.” He reaches down and draws his claws across Peter’s throat, silencing the man once and for all. Derek collapses as his uncle’s heart goes silent.

“Sheriff,” Chris says hesitantly.

“As of right now, you’re lucky I don’t charge you and your wife with conspiracy to commit murder, Mr. Argent,” Mark growls out, turning to look at the man, fulling showing just what he is. “Even if you weren’t responsible for the fire, how many bodies will I find if I trace your path across the states?” he asks.

“I have only killed in self-defense and when a werewolf was beyond saving, when they attacked and killed humans,” Chris growls, standing straight.

“Perhaps, but can you say the same for the rest of your family?” he asks, before a shard of pain in his back makes him stagger.

“Dad!” Stiles yells out, rushing towards his father. “You’re bleeding black,” Stiles says, eyes wide.

“Here,” Chris says, tossing a bullet toward him, the Alpha catching it. “A peace offering. Cure yourself and we’ll talk later.”

“I plan on it,” Mark grits out.

“Hold still, dad,” Stiles hisses, getting to work on curing his father.

“Allison,” Scott calls out softly, stepping but from behind the tree, still shifted.

She pales, looking at her boyfriend, “How long?” she croaks out.

“Remember when I said I was sick?” he asks and she nods. “I wasn’t. Peter attacked me and Stiles at school. He nearly killed me. The Sheriff offered me the bite to save my life.”

“I…I can’t right now Scott. I’m sorry,” she whispers, turning to keep walking with her father away.

“Okay,” he whispers, eyes wet and presses into his mother as she steps close to hold him.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispers, petting his hair as he cries silently.

Mark growls as Stiles shoves the ash into his back before he pales and spits out black ichor onto the forest floor. “That’s still disgusting,” Stiles complains.

“Least you don’t have the taste in your mouth,” Mark complains, grimacing and spitting again.

“Is that it?” Jackson demands, coming from the trees.

“For the moment, yes,” Mark says with a shrug and a grimace, feeling the still healing shoulder wound. He pats Scott on the shoulder. “You did good. If you hadn’t called out, she’s have done a lot more damage.” Scott beams a little at his praise.

Mark sighs, “I hate to do it, but we need to cover up this fight and find a way to cover all the loose thread.”

“There’s a dead woman in Peter’s car as well,” Stiles says softly. “It was the woman from the hospital. I think she was helping him while he still healed.”

“Well, I have enough evidence that Kate started the fire that killed the Hale family. I can pen the deaths on Peter seeking revenge with the nurse as his accomplice. It will keep you from being accused, Derek, but that is up to you?” Mark offers, walking over to the still slumped beta.

“Do what you feel is right, Sheriff,” he mumbles, standing and walking off into the trees.

Wait,” stiles says, but Mark stops him with a wave of his hand.

“Let him be Stiles. I think he needs to be alone,” Mark says softly, watching the beta disappear deeper into the preserve.

“Come on, I need to call this in,” he says with a grimace, walking back to where they left their cars.

~*~

“Is he alright?” Stiles asks as they sit around the dinner table, Scott and Melissa having joined them.

“Stiles,” his dad sighs.

“It’s just…it’s been a few days. I’d hate for all this to happen and then he ends up hurt or something,” Stiles explains.

“Stiles, he just lost the last of his family. I think he just needs time to grieve and figure out what he wants to do,” Melissa explains to the boy.

“I guess,” he mutters, poking at his lasagna.

Mark and Scott both glance up as they hear someone approach the front door. “Wow, I heard that,” Scott says with a grin and Mark snorts, ruffling his hair before standing as someone knocks at the door.

He’s not surprised to see Derek standing at the door. His Camaro is not in sight. “Derek,” he nods.

“May I come in?” he asks.

“Of course,” Mark steps aside and lets the man enter.

“What can I do for you?” he asks once the door is closed.

“I…I’ve been doing a lot of thinking here, the last few day,” Derek says.

“A lot has happened, I’m sure you needed to,” Mark agrees with a nod.

“Laura and I, we spent so long running and hiding away from the past. We couldn’t move past it, move on. I think she always wanted to come back, to restart eventually, but was waiting for a sign that never came. But I can’t wait like her,” Derek grits out.

“You’re leaving,” Mark says with a knowing look.

“For a bit, yes,” Derek admits. “I’m heading to New York to go through our stuff and bring it back here, if you’ll have another beta?” Derek asks, looking unsure of Mark’s answer.

“This is your home, son. I won’t turn you away because of your past. You’ll always have a place here,” he says, patting the beta on the shoulder. “Take as much time as you need. You’ll have a spot here when you get back.”

“Thank you,” Derek says with a determined look. “For everything.”

“Well see you when you get back,” Mark assures, leading Derek back to the door. With a nod, he trots off to where he parked his car.

“Dad?” Stiles asks from the hall.

“He’ll be back. Be patient Stiles. He needs to work through some things first, is all,” he says, stepping back into the kitchen. “Now, we’ll start working on Scott’s training this weekend. I need you to text Jackson and tell him to get over here as well. Now that the this crisis is passed, we can get to work.”

Stiles groans but nods, pulling out his phone to text the jock. Melissa chuckles, pulling Scott close as he stares at his phone where Allison still hasn’t texted him back.

“It will get better,” she whispers to him and he nods.

Mark smiles, looking around at his pack, his family and feels something that was missing slot into place. He’d not realized just how much he wanted this until he had it. Things weren’t great, with the hunters aware of him now and their threat still on his mind, but for now, he had peace in his town. For now, he would just have to wait.

**End.**


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